Deepwinter Strawberry
by ilarual
Summary: A collection of oneshots for SoMa Week 2014. Chapter 2 is decidedly M-rated, all other chapters are a safe T. Day 7: First I love you. "Soul had always loved her... he just hadn't always known in what way."
1. Roommates

**A/N-** It's already 9:30 a.m. Monday morning in Australia. I think that counts as SoMa Week officially starting.

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**Day 1: Roommates  
**_Summary: __Tsubaki discovers something surprising about Maka and her long-time roommate._

* * *

Nakatsukasa Tsubaki usually preferred tea to coffee, but on this particular day she had pulled out the dusty coffee-maker from its hiding place in the back of a rarely-opened cabinet. She went to the trouble for one reason only: for the sake of her dear friend Maka Albarn. Maka was a dedicated coffee drinker, and although the combined efforts of Tsubaki and Maka's tea-enthusiast roommate/weapon partner Soul "Eater" Evans had refined her palate somewhat over the years, the blonde meister still preferred tastebud-slaying black coffee strong enough to eat through the bottom of the pot.

The dark arm weapon didn't have the heart to brew the coffee quite as strong as Maka liked it, but the other woman, who happily stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her mug, didn't seem to notice. Then again, Maka had been so cheerful ever since Tsubaki and Black*Star had announced their engagement that she suspected she could have served her instant coffee and she wouldn't have minded.

It was a strange thing, actually, just how enthusiastic Maka was. She was always happy for her friends when good things happened in their live, and usually eager to help out in any way she could, but Tsubaki was surprised at just how much good cheer had been pouring out of the little blonde in spades lately.

"You seem really happy," Maka observed, as if echoing Tsubaki's sentiment. Her chin was propped on the heel of her hand, fingers curled up close to her cheek, and a small smile was tugging at her mouth.

Tsubaki glanced down, unable to keep the flush of happiness off her face as her eyes fell on the plain band that adorned her fourth finger. "I am. I… never knew how much I wanted this until I got it."

Maka nodded lazily. "Are you nervous?"

"No, not at all. I mean, of course I want the wedding to go smoothly, but I'm looking forward to being married much more than it scares me," Tsubaki replied. Seeing her opportunity, she let out a calculated little sigh. "I just wish…" She trailed off artfully… and artful it most certainly was.

Tsubaki was a good-hearted person, who hated to see anyone less than perfectly happy, but especially those whom she loved the most. She was a warrior by birth and trade, but by nature she was a nurturer, maternally concerned almost to a fault. Some might have said this was contradictory; these naysayers clearly had never been confronted with a mother whose children were endangered. Tsubaki was fierce in her defense of her loved ones, and gently meddlesome in her concern for their personal happiness. Liz and- surprisingly- Ox Ford might be the ones with a reputation for concocting elaborate schemes to bring about what they thought would be beneficial for their friends, but Tsubaki was far more effective. She usually didn't interfere, but there was no one better when it came to seemingly-harmless prying.

She was of the opinion that people generally knew what was in their own best interests, even if they weren't ready to acknowledge it, and in her perennial concern for the well-being of her friends, she took it upon herself to guide them in the right direction. It wasn't interfering, not really. She was just helping people admit to things they already felt in their hearts. Or at least, that's how she saw it.

And today was the day she was finally going to get the notoriously tough nut that was Maka Albarn to crack.

Across the table, emerald eyes narrowed as the other woman sat up straighter, lifting her cheek from its nesting place in her palm. "You wish what?" she asked, and Tsubaki could practically see the diminutive blonde gearing up to smash Black*Star into the pavement if he'd done anything to make her unhappy. She wanted to smile at her friend's loyalty and protectiveness, but kept her expression schooled into wistfulness.

"I wish you could be as happy as I am," she said. "You deserve to find somebody."

Tsubaki noticed Maka taking on a skittish look, though she worked hard to keep her smile pleasant. It was an attitude Tsubaki had seen in her often whenever the subject of finding her a date came up. She supposed it must be due to having such a bad example of romantic love and marital happiness growing up. It was natural to be nervous. Tsubaki thought that must be why Maka had never even bothered to try dating, despite being almost twenty-five.

But someone as amazing as Maka shouldn't have to miss out on such a wonderful part of life just because she was scared- especially because Maka had never been the type to let fear defeat her before!

"Tsubaki-"

"No, I'm serious," Tsubaki cut her off. "I know a very nice boy I know you would just love. He's an old childhood friend of mine, our families have been closely linked for generations, and he and his parents are coming for the wedding. He's single and handsome, very respectful and honest, and he's a capable fighter."

The blonde raised a sardonic eyebrow. "The way you talk, it sounds like you should be dating him instead of getting married, Tsubaki."

Tsubaki waved a hand and gave her friend an unamused look that was ruined by the way her lips twitched upward. "Come on, Maka. You shouldn't have to be alone for the rest of your life! You'll never find anyone if you don't _try!_"

Maka shook her head. "I have Soul."

Tsubaki bit her lip to hold back a smile when Maka brought up the white-haired man. Everyone with eyes could see that Maka had been carrying a brightly-burning torch for her partner for years, probably since before the war with Asura. But despite her obvious love for her partner, Maka had never made any move to change their relationship. They remained roommates and nothing else. What made the whole thing worse was that the infatuation was clearly not one-sided. He wasn't as obvious as Maka tended to be to people who didn't know them well, but the tight-knit group of friends that made up Spartoi had worked out years ago that Soul Eater adored his meister.

Tsubaki had been trying for years to gently prod Maka in Soul's direction, but nothing had worked. Even Liz's most elaborate attempts at setups were ineffective (Tsubaki had warned her that locking them in a closet together wasn't going to work- it was much too cliche).

She had been taught as a child that caution and stealth must precede bold action. Well, she had been cautious and stealthy about this for years (though the same could not be said for the Thompson sisters) and it was time to take some bold action! If Maka could not be reasoned with, and if sneaky setups hadn't worked, then perhaps jealousy would do the trick. Seeing Maka bring a date to the upcoming wedding might be just the kick in the pants Soul needed to finally get his butt moving.

"I know you have Soul," Tsubaki said placatingly, maintaining the role of the concerned friend perfectly, "and please do not think I'm trying to devalue your relationship with him. Your relationship with your partner is important, any weapon or meister would agree, but Maka… a roommate is not the same as a husband!"

Maka opened her mouth as if to speak, but a laugh bubbled up in her throat and choked off anything she might have planned to say. At first it was just soft chuckling, but within seconds she was caught up in a full-blown giggle fit, teeth clamped down on her lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle her laughter.

Tsubaki was the tiniest bit affronted. Alright, perhaps it was a little bit of an old-fashioned idea, but she couldn't help that she'd been raised by very traditional parents and agreed with their values! And she knew Maka wanted to be married someday- she'd said so herself once, a red faced confession during a round of truth or dare when they were still in school- so it wasn't _that_ ridiculous a suggestion, was it?

"Maka, I don't understand what's so funny about this!" she said, trying to break through to her still-laughing friend. "I'm not suggesting you send off for a mail-order husband or anything! I just know a nice man, a friend of the family actually, who's visiting from Japan for a few months and I thought maybe you'd-"

But Maka cut her off with a wave of her hand and a breathless, "Tsubaki, stop!" She wiped at her eyes, grinning like the Cheshire cat, and tried to catch her breath. "I'm not… laughing at you, or anything, I promise. It's just… that thing you said about a roommate and a husband not being the same is really funny, under the circumstances."

Tsubaki's brow furrowed in confusion. "What circumstances?"

Maka took a deep breath and huffed it out, distracting herself for a moment by taking a sip of her coffee. Finally, mug deposited back on the table with a soft clink, Maka smiled. It was a thin, nervous expression, but genuine. "The thing is," she said slowly, "Soul and I are… well… we're married."

Clearly she needed to get her hearing checked. She could swear she'd just heard Maka say she was married to her weapon. "What?" she asked blankly.

The meister laughed nervously. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't need a date for your wedding, Tsubaki. I have a husband who will be more than happy to refuse to dance with me the entire night."

Forget poor hearing- she was clearly having full-blown auditory hallucinations! "Maka, I don't- you're not- I can't… _How can you be married?_"

Maka's shy smile broadened, still abashed but unable to help being amused at Tsubaki's astonishment. "We were planning on telling everyone, but right after it happened, you and Black*Star got engaged and we didn't want to steal your thunder."

"I don't… understand," Tsubaki said slowly. "You weren't even _dating!_"

But when Maka blushed and glanced down, the dark arm weapon was forced to reconsider. "You… _were_ dating?"

Maka nodded.

"How did I never know about this? How did _no one_ ever know about this?" Tsubaki asked, gaping. "Tell me everything!"

"Well, we didn't tell anybody right away because it started off kind of weird. It wasn't really a relationship thing at first. We were really young… oh death, that was even before Spartoi was formed! God, we really were just kids."

That long? Soul and Maka had been an item since _before_ Spartoi?

But before Tsubaki could express her astonishment, Maka continued: "Anyway, like I said, we didn't jump into a relationship. We just… sort of kissed by accident one day and it was really nice. Soul's always been an amazing kisser." She blushed, smiling fondly. "We didn't talk about it right away. You know how it is when you're a teenager- trying to talk things out rationally is so awkward, and we were still figuring out how to be partners let alone anything else. But the kissing was really nice so we… well, we just kept doing that for awhile."

Yes, that certainly sounded like the kind of situation Soul and Maka would have gotten themselves into back in those days, Tsubaki supposed. In the early days of their partnership they had been so bad at communicating; despite a resonance so powerful they could literally read each others' minds, they were both so stubborn and bad at allowing themselves to be vulnerable that actually _talking_ had been a challenge for them. "When did you finally… er… make it official?" she asked.

Maka's wide eyes were soft with fond reminiscence. "After the Book of Eibon," she said. "Some really… intense things happened after we got separated from you guys. It was an eye-opener for both of us, and that night once we were home and had gotten ourselves patched up, Soul told me he loved me. We've been together ever since."

Tsubaki might have the dirtiest of all dirty minds but she was a romantic at heart, and the loving smile on Maka's face as she recalled her romance with her husband- her husband!- was one of the sweetest things she had ever seen. Still, she had to ask, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

The blonde shrugged. "A lot of reasons, I guess. The biggest thing was that we wanted to keep my papa from finding out. You know how he is, and he still hated Soul so much back then. Dealing with him freaking out just seemed like too much of a hassle. And there was so much else going on, with Crona missing and Asura still a threat, that Soul and I dating didn't seem like such a big deal. It wasn't like we set out to keep it some big secret, we just figured it wasn't anybody else's business but ours. Nothing really changed, anyway. We're not really big on PDA- we're _not!_" she protested, at Tsubaki's extremely disbelieving stare. "Well, okay, I guess we hold hands a lot-"

"And hug at least six times a day and snuggle every single time you're sitting down next to each other for more than three minutes," Tsubaki said with a wry smile. No wonder everyone who knew them had thought they were in love- they were.

Maka snorted. "What can I say?" she said with an entirely unapologetic smirk. "Soul's a big cuddler and I have no objections."

Tsubaki found herself a bit surprised by that. "Soul likes cuddling? Really? He doesn't seem like the type."

"Oh, trust me, he is. Sometimes I almost think he likes the cuddling better than the sex!" She rolled her eyes, an amused look on her face.

Once she had gotten over the realization that innocent little virgin Maka was neither innocent nor a virgin- and mopped up the spatter of coffee she had spat out from the shock of said realization- the weapon sighed wistfully. "Sometimes I wish Black*Star were more of a cuddler," she said.

Maka snorted. "Trust me, you don't. Most of the time it's nice, but Soul's body temperature runs hot and when the air conditioner breaks it's like being snuggled up next to a freaking furnace that refuses to let go, and once he's out for the night it's almost impossible to wake him up to get him off of me- _what?_"

Tsubaki was beaming. "That's… so _cute!_ You really are married, aren't you?"

"I said we were, didn't I?"

"I have to ask, though… why didn't you invite any of us to your wedding? We'd have liked to be there," Tsubaki said. It was the one part of all this that didn't sit well with her.

Maka's expression was a little downcast at that. "Well, it was kind of spur-of-the-moment. Not the actual getting married part of it, we'd been talking about that for awhile. I mean, we've been in a committed partnership since we met, and I told Soul when I was sixteen that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, so it wasn't a big surprise when we started to consider marriage. But… well, you remember that conference for death scythes and their meisters in Jersey a few months ago?"

"Yes?"

"Well, we were in Atlantic City and we'd had a really romantic dinner and out of the blue Soul suggested that we just go ahead and do it. We'd been thinking about it for so long, and the timing was perfect. I mean, my papa was there, and Soul's brother was playing a concert in New York City that weekend so he was able to drive out to be there, so we applied for a marriage license and got married the next day."

Tsubaki was smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, and Maka took notice.

"What?"

The weapon made a valiant effort at boosting the wattage on her smile, and said, "I'm so happy for you, Maka-chan, really. Only..."

"You wish you could have been there, right?" Maka guessed.

Tsubaki nodded.

Maka pursed her lips in sympathy. "I'm sorry about that. We wanted you and everyone else to be there, but there was no time if we wanted to be able to get married before his brother had to leave again. We were going to have a big party once we got back to Death City, like a… belated reception, I guess. But before we could tell anyone or start planning anything, you and Black*Star announced your engagement and we didn't want to take away from that for you."

"That's very sweet of you but you shouldn't have worried about that!" Tsubaki said with a wave of her hand, bright smile fully restored now. She had stars in her eyes as she continued, "To think, all this time I've been so worried that the two of you would never see how happy you could be together, but really you had already figured that out! Oh, this is wonderful, Maka!"

That gentle smile had crept back onto Maka's face. "I certainly think so," she said, looking every inch a woman deeply in love. She sighed happily and said, "I've been dying to tell you for months, honestly."

Tsubaki leaned forward eagerly. "Liz and Patti are going to be here in an hour to help us put together the table favors," she said, "And I know they'll want to hear all about it, too."

Maka shook her head. "Oh death, no way! If Liz and Patti find out Soul and I are married, half of Death City will know all about it before I can even get home. I'd rather put off all that nonsense until after your big day."

A sinking feeling in her gut, Tsubaki asked, "Does that mean you want me to keep this a secret?"

Maka shrugged. "That would be preferable, yes. I'd really rather that for the time being you keep acting like Soul and I are roommates and partners and nothing else. I mean, quite aside from not wanting to steal your spotlight, Soul and I have kept our relationship private for so long now, I guess I'm a little nervous about how people are going to react."

Well how on earth was she supposed to argue with that? But if Maka insisted on making her keep this juicy piece of news to herself, then she was sure as shinigami going to know every single detail.

"Alright," Tsubaki agreed amicably. Once Maka had relaxed back in her seat and given her a grateful smile, she grinned and asked, "So, how is the sex?"

Maka choked on her coffee.


	2. Nosebleed

**A/N-** It's cheesy! It's cracky! It's definitely NSFW! Sexual content ahoy!

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**Day 2: Nosebleed**  
_Summary: Maka's feeling insecure because it seems her Not Boyfriend doesn't find her attractive, _  
_and she's determined to provoke a reaction, no matter what she has to do._

* * *

Maka was steamed. She was frustrated, she was indignant, she was fuming, she was one wrong move away from blowing her top... and it was all stupid Soul's fault.

It had always bothered her when Soul got nosebleeds over anything with sufficiently jiggly T&A. She appreciated that, for the most part, he'd always had the good grace not to act on his attraction to curvy women, because she wasn't sure if she would have been able to handle watching her partner date, even back when they really were only partners and not… _whatever_ it was they were now. It had still bothered her, even back then.

Now, however, their carefully-drawn platonic line had gotten blurry. It had started with a kiss, a not-quite-innocent and entirely unexpected kiss, and they had meandered down a very confusing path since then. Maka thought they were together. She was pretty sure they were, at least. They hadn't really talked about it, but there had definitely been plenty of kissing. Well- she said "kissing," but it was more like "making out."

A lot.

Maybe they hadn't discussed the details, but she was pretty sure that constituted a relationship… at least for them. Perhaps civilians would have a different perspective on the matter, but she and Soul had been joined at a soul-deep level for the better part of a decade now, and they were in a committed partnership that was intended to last the rest of their professional lives if not longer. Really, when she thought about it, the only thing that had differentiated them from a couple before was that they hadn't spent any time with their tongues in each others' mouths. Well,_ that _had certainly changed lately.

Despite all this, however, Soul didn't seem… well, he didn't seem to have the same reaction to her as he did to women he found attractive. She knew the nosebleeds hadn't stopped, because he inevitably ended up losing several tablespoons of blood every time Blair had a wardrobe malfunction- honestly, if the cat woman didn't stop "accidentally" losing her top, he was going to have to start taking iron supplements!- but there was one girl who most definitely wasn't provoking any such response from the beleaguered scythe.

Namely, Maka herself.

The blonde glared at her reflection in the mirror, studying herself critically to try and figure out just what was so unappealing that she couldn't even get a reaction out of a guy who'd spent a significant portion of the last month groping her. She was fairly content with her own appearance. She was pretty enough, even if her hair was a little on the thin side, and she'd filled out nicely since her preteens. True, she was certainly no Tsubaki, but she actually had cleavage now, and her trim waist and the gentle curve of her hips was not unappealing, at least in her opinion. She might not cause whiplash and car accidents walking down the street the way Liz tended to, but she wasn't a troll by any means!

What was Soul's problem, anyway? He obviously wasn't repulsed by her or he wouldn't be doing… well… _stuff_ with her. But if the distinct lack of any blood in his nostrils was a reliable indicator, Soul didn't seem to be especially attracted to her either, which begged the question of why he was doing said stuff with her in the first place. It made her uneasy and insecure and was it really so wrong to want him to be as hopelessly attracted to her as she was to him?

She was going to get to the bottom of this, dammit! She was tired of feeling like a nervous wreck, just another high school girl wilting away because she didn't know if her crush liked her. Well, Maka Albarn was no Lily Maid of Astolat! She was going to confront the problem head-on. Or… well, in this case, tits-on! Hers might not be all that impressive but she had years of experience in watching their magical roommate seduce people, and now knew how to use what little she had to greatest effect. If Soul felt even a smidgen of attraction to her, there was no way he was going to be able to resist the show she was prepared to put on. She was going to get a reaction out of him or- or- well, she didn't know what "or" was going to be, exactly, but it was going to be _dire!_ And she had just _exactly_ the outfit to use as her weapon of choice, too…

* * *

When they had arrived home after class, Maka had disappeared into her room, claiming that it was much too hot to be wearing her Spartoi uniform any longer, especially with their air conditioner on the fritz again. Soul didn't blame her. It was a scorching day. He'd certainly shucked off his uniform jacket and tie immediately upon leaving school, and it was only pseudo-modesty drilled into him after years of living with a female roommate that kept his pants on; he imagined the summer swelter of Death Valley must be brutal in that long coat Maka wore.

Once she was shut up in her room, Soul slumped down on the couch and flipped the TV over to an episode of some game show. He didn't bother actually watching it, however- his mind was on other matters.

Specifically, matters pertaining to all things blonde and meisterly.

He needed to address the current status of their relationship. After years of hopeless and unrequited pining, he had finally worked up the nerve to kiss her and… well, the progress seemed pretty positive. He now had empirical evidence that her ass felt every bit as fantastic as it looked, at any rate.

Unfortunately, he hadn't quite gotten around to that whole "confessing his undying love" part of the process yet. Minor oversight. Definitely no big deal. He was getting around to it. Really. He was just… waiting for the opportune moment. Yeah.

Okay, no, actually he was fucking terrified and being a wuss about it. But it wasn't like he could help that whole crippling-fear-of-rejection thing! There was a big difference between knowing Maka was at least into him enough to let him grope her tits and being confident enough to actually tell her his romantic inclinations ran deeper than aforementioned groping. He knew he needed to tell her the truth sooner rather than later, but he couldn't figure out how to do that in a way that wouldn't send his commitment-phobe of a partner running for the hills. Blurting out "_Oh hey by the way I'm helplessly in love with you and want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you… no pressure!_" wasn't really an option.

It was going to require finesse and tact and just the right amount of casual. Soul was usually pretty good with the "casual" part, but with something like this, he wasn't sure he even knew what casual was. And as for the "finesse and tact" bits… well, Soul royally sucked at those on a good day.

Fuck. He was going to tell her and sound like a complete clingy moron and she was going to reject him and bolt like a rabbit and he was going to cry and this was going to be _so fucking embarrassing…!_

The door of Maka's room creaked open and Soul took a slow steady breath, trying to lock his thoughts down because freaking the hell out over something that might not even be a problem was the height of uncool. Especially since his partner had _literal_ freak-out radar and would know he was fretting immediately.

He heard her rummaging around the kitchen and from the clatter of ice and the running of the tap, assumed she was getting a glass of water.

"Hey, can you get me a drink, too?" he called to her.

"Get one yourself, you useless lump! You've been sitting around watching TV for like half an hour!"

Soul pouted even though she couldn't see him. "Fine! See if I carry you up the stairs next time you're too worn out after a fight to-"

Maka emerged around the corner carrying her ice water and whatever he had been saying flew out of his head in favor of desperately trying not to let his tongue flop out of his mouth at the smorgasbord of meister-skin suddenly on display.

For a half second, he didn't register that what was (barely) covering her bottom half actually counted as pants. With the absolutely sinful amount of ass-cheek that was showing, he thought they were a pair of those little boy-short underpants. It wasn't until he realized that they were made of denim that he figured out that they weren't underwear but in fact the single tiniest pair of Daisy Dukes he had ever seen in his life.

_Holy shit_. He knew his meister had no qualms about showing off her legs, but since when did she wear microshorts?

Worse, though, was the top. She was wearing a little black button-up vest- emphasis on the "little"- the kind that were meant to be worn over a t-shirt by hipsters. Or maybe cowboys. It bared a teasing half-inch of skin at her midriff and quite a bit of cleavage as well, something made all the more noticeable by the fact that she seemed to have neglected to button the top button, and-

_Oh fuck him, she wasn't wearing a bra!_

He was absolutely not prepared to deal with this. His meister was always pretty, cute when she wasn't covered in blood and shrieking death at their enemies, beautiful when she let her hair down… but when she was downright drop-dead sexy? What was a scythe to do!?

"Soul?" she asked innocently, "Everything okay?"

"Uhhhhhh…"

Apparently taking that as a sufficient answer, Maka flopped down on the couch beside him. "Whoo, it's hot!" she remarked, fanning herself.

"No kidding," Soul said weakly once he'd finally managed to get his suddenly dry mouth working again. He was trying and failing spectacularly to keep his eyes above her neck.

So sue him, he was a guy!

Maka swung her legs up onto the couch and placed her legs in his lap, ankles crossed daintily on his opposite thigh, and Soul groaned inwardly. Her legs were sexy enough to make any heterosexual male a little lightheaded all on their own, but with even more leg on display than usual, he was not prepared to deal with being in such close proximity to them. At the same time, though, there was no way in hell he could just shove her off with no explanation; their couch was small and it wasn't unusual for one or the other of them to have their legs slung over the other's lap.

He spent a solid five minutes trying to come up with an excuse to get her to stay on her own damn half of the couch and trying very very hard to avoid staring at the enticing curve of her calf.

What was so damn sexy about her legs, anyway? They weren't anything all that special! Hell, Liz had longer, hotter legs than Maka- objectively speaking- and she practically always had them covered up under long pants!

Eventually Soul came to the conclusion that it wasn't the legs themselves, it was who they belonged to. Dammit.

"Wow, it's _so _hot in here," Maka said, interrupting his train of thought because _holy shit_ that tone of voice was a turn on. Had she meant to sound so… sultry?

No. No way. It was Maka. Despite having fondled her tits twice this week alone, he couldn't help but think of his meister as virginal. There was no way she was being deliberately sexy like this. He was just a damn perv.

But now Maka was fishing an ice cube out of her glass of water and… and…

Soul's eyes bugged out of his head as Maka placed the ice cube on her neck below her jaw. Her eyes were closed in bliss and her mouth dropped open in a soft sigh of relief as the ice cooled her heated body. She rubbed the ice along her neck and slowly down across the visible expanse of her chest. Soul's eyes were glued to a little droplet of water left in its wake, tracking its progress as it pooled for a moment in the hollow at the base of her throat before spilling over and trickling smoothly down the creamy skin of her chest before disappearing between-

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit he was **not** going to get a boner now! _

_Quick, Soul, think about something else! Think about… uh… vacations. The beach! Yeah. Sun, sand, relaxation, Maka in a bikini- WAIT, no, abort mission! _

_Control your goddamn hormones, dumbass. And your dick, definitely control your dick, you cannot get a stiffy now, it's not allowed._

_Alright. Think about something else. Something boring. Something not sexy. Um… calculus? Nah, too boring. Poetry? No, shit, too many mental images of Maka reading love poems while naked. The circle of fifths? Yeah, the circle of fifths… nothing sexy about that._

_Okay, Soul, focus… F major, one flat, relative minor is D. B-flat major, two flats, relative minor is G. E-flat major, three flats, relative minor is C. A-flat major, four flats, relative minor is-_

"Soul? Earth to Soul! Sooouuul, can you hear me?"

Boner of the century (mostly) averted, he jerked back to the present to discover that Maka was staring at him curiously. Mercifully, she seemed to be done with the ice cube, but the fact that he could spy a few water stains along the top of her vest was pretty fucking distracting in its own right. Thank god the vest was black- if it had been white, and therefore see-through where the ice melt had soaked it, he would have seriously embarrassed himself.

"Uh… what?"

"You okay? You spaced out there for a minute."

"Um. Yeah. Fine."

She seemed to accept that, and Soul went back to focusing on the television, which was now showing a rerun of Jeopardy! that he tried very sincerely to pay attention to, because he really really needed to keep his mind out of the gutter. Things had been going well with Maka lately and he was _not_ going to fuck up the progress he'd made just because his stupid penis couldn't behave itself.

The uneasy peace between Soul and his dick lasted for all of three minutes before a discontented hum from Maka grabbed his attention in a vice. He very carefully did not look at her, because looking at her was a pretty dangerous proposition right now, but his sensitive ears were keenly attuned to every sound coming from her end of the loveseat. Over the course of the next few minutes, she continued to make quiet noises of discomfort every so often, which Soul had absolutely no success in tuning out.

Finally, he couldn't keep ignoring her any longer. Eyes still glued to the TV, he asked, "Everything okay?"

In a tone of voice that practically _sounded_ like a pout, she said, "No. I really wrenched my back when we were sparring with Ox and Harvar during training today. I'm so sore."

Soul made a sympathetic noise. Yeah, he was always pretty stiff from being stuck in weapon form during long training sessions, and all he was doing was maintaining his blade. He imagined that with all that running and twisting around she did, Maka must be really-

"Would you massage my shoulders for me, Soul?"

_Bad idea. No. No no no._

He wrenched his gaze from the television to stare at her, and he tried not to look like a deer in headlights but he didn't think he succeeded very well. God, this wasn't cool at all, but just the thought of rubbing Maka's back, the feel of her soft skin under his hands… well, Operation: Don't Be A Gross Horndog would turn into Mission: Impossible way faster than he was comfortable with. He didn't dare give in to the temptation, this could only end badly, even if she gave him the silent treatment for the rest of the day there was no way he could-

"Sure, I guess."

_Fuck._

Maka beamed at him, though, a sweet, sexy smile that made his heart go all melty and his dick go… well, the opposite of that.

Okay, he could do this. He was going to be a good partner and rub his meister's shoulders because she was sore and he was not going to be gross and freak her out because he apparently had absolutely zero control over his damn libido. He had this. He was going to be cool, he was-

Maka was sitting on his thighs. Soul had no idea how this had happened, he hadn't been paying attention, and having a lapful of Maka was… well, not unpleasant by any means but his brain was screaming "Danger, Will Robinson!" because his dick was at half-mast as it was and proximity to soft, shapely meister-butt was not going to improve the situation any.

She swept her curtain of ash blonde hair over her shoulder and out of his way and oh, right, he was supposed to be rubbing her back.

Tentatively he reached out and curled his fingers over her slim shoulders, feeling the soft corduroy of her vest and her much softer skin. His thumbs dug into the spots on either side of her spine where he knew she carried a lot of tension. The happy little sigh she let out as he began to work over the knot he found made him feel ridiculously guilty, because just touching her like this had made his growing problem… _grow_.

No, he could handle this. He smoothed his palms as far down her back as he deemed safe, then worked his strong fingers upwards in small circles, coaxing her stiff muscles to relax beneath his touch. He was good at this. It wasn't the first time he'd given her a massage when a day's training left her unusually sore- just the first time he'd done so with her sitting in his lap, dangerously close to his straining erection. But he could handle this.

_Be cool, Soul. Be cool, be cool, be cool, be cool_…

And then his kneading fingers hit a sweet spot and Maka _moaned_.

Shit. He _couldn't_ handle this. He couldn't deal with her sighing and squirming and moaning in his lap while he touched her so much less intimately than he desired. He had to put a stop to this. He was going to be a _gentleman_, dammit, even if death by blue balls was the consequence!

Maka was suddenly wiggling around, trying to scoot backwards, closer to his hands- and that, in turn, would put her ass right over his hard on. Soul panicked, and with a yelp of surprise he pushed Maka away, causing her to tumble right off his lap and onto the floor.

The only thought that crossed his mind in the split second of silence that followed was the panicked and fervent hope that the swift decapitation-by-Maka-chop came before the inevitable castration.

Then Maka was back on her feet and glaring at him; he shifted nervously in his seat in the hopes that a change in position would hide his erection (fat chance of that at this point), or at least make it a somewhat less obvious target.

"What the hell, Soul?" she asked, voice rising dangerously.

"I could ask you the same thing!" he shot back. He might be facing imminent death and/or the implosion of his Not-Relationship with the love of his life, but Soul Eater didn't take shit lying down, at least not from one Maka Albarn.

"Me? What did _I_ do?" she screeched.

Soul let out an exasperated growl. "I don't know, you tell me! What's with you, today?"

She planted her clenched fists on her hips and her eyes slit dangerously. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she snapped, but there was an odd look in her eye. She seemed almost… guilty? Soul had mostly been prepared to argue for the sake of arguing (and maybe staving off a dent in his skull if he was lucky), but now he was curious. Probably against his better judgment, but hey, nobody ever said he was smart.

And also standing like that was making it really really obvious that another button on her vest had popped open when he had shoved her off his lap, and he was pretty sure 80% of his higher brain function had shut down. Dammit. Why was he such a useless horndog when it came to this girl?

Soul's mouth began to run off without his permission. "Oh, I think you do!" he accused. "Or do you mean to tell me this isn't all deliberate?"

"A-All what?"

He waved his hands in her general direction, not sure how to explain his thoughts without sounding like exactly the kind of pervert he was. "You know… just the… the skimpy clothes and that… uh... the ice and- and- and the massage… and, y'know, personal space, and… uh…"

_Well _that _was eloquent, dumbass._

But apparently he'd hit the nail on the head- he wasn't exactly sure which nail, but whatever- because Maka deflated almost instantly. She visibly wilted and the ire melted from her expression, leaving her looking smaller than usual. A hint of pink rose in her cheeks and her gaze dropped to her bare feet, hiding her eyes behind her bangs.

"O-oh," she mumbled.

Now Soul was just plain confused. "Maka, what's going on?" he asked more gently.

She stuttered something out too quietly for Soul to hear.

"Didn't catch that, sorry," he said.

At that, she looked up at him again, face beet red and eyes blazing. "I _said_," she spat, "I was trying to find out if you're actually attracted to me! There, are you happy?"

Great. Now he was horny, worried, _and_ royally confused. Clearly, though, there had been some stupendous miscommunication somewhere along the line, and whatever ideas had been overheating the circuits in Maka's gigantic brain looked like they were about to lead to either tears or her going Godzilla on all of Death City, and neither was an acceptable option in his opinion. Time to nip whatever this was in the bud before it got out of hand. Or… _more_ out of hand, anyway.

He grabbed her wrist and tugged her gently down onto the couch beside him. She didn't resist, which had him worried, because the only times Maka let him lead her _anywhere_ outside of the battlefield were their rare outings on the dance floor. Maka Albarn was not one easily led, and he had felt incredibly privileged for years that she was sometimes willing to let him guide her.

"What makes you think I'm not attracted to you?" he asked once she was seated.

She didn't answer, just crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her knees.

"Maka?"

"Never mind," she said tersely.

Soul shook his head. "No way. You're acting weird, Maka."

She huffed out a breath, looking disgruntled and upset and thoroughly embarrassed. "It's stupid, but… well… you always get these huge nosebleeds over girls like Blair and Tsubaki. It's obvious how much girls with bodies like that, uh, turn you on. And I was okay with that, sort of, because I figured you'd never even want a girl like me, but then once we started… um… well…"

"Making out?" he supplied helpfully.

She nodded, tilting her head further downward in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal her chili-pepper blush behind her long hair. "Yeah. That. I guess I just thought that maybe you were attracted to me, too, but you never got anything even close to a nosebleed because of me so I wasn't sure, so I thought maybe if I tried to… be sexy… maybe I could… get a reaction…"

The last few words were mumbled so quietly he could hardly hear them, but when he worked out what she'd said, Soul wanted to chop _himself_ for being so dense. He'd been so caught up in his own fears that he'd forgotten that Maka had a whole heap of insecurities of her own to contend with. It wasn't even the first time something like this had happened, either! He should have realized this might be a problem way before it got thrown in his face like this.

"Maka," he said, in a strained voice, "I'm definitely attracted to you, so don't go thinking some dumb thing like that."

She didn't look up. "Don't say things to make me feel better, Soul."

Crap. This wasn't going to be something he could fix without embarrassment. He glanced down at the tent Soul Jr. was pitching, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Look, Maka, I know I don't get nosebleeds because of you, but… ah… the thing is, y'see-" How did he say "you make me hard enough to pound nails" without actually… well… _saying_ that? His head dropped against the back of the couch and he stared at the ceiling, wondering how it was possible to blush so much when every single drop of blood in his body was currently in his dick.

_Wait_…

"The thing is," he said, suddenly inspired and slightly incredulous that he was actually about to say what had just occurred to him, "I think the reason I don't ever get nosebleeds is because my blood is… um… _otherwise occupied_ when you do something- ah, sexy…"

That got her to look up at him. She stared at him in puzzlement for a moment, and then the understanding hit her and she glanced down at his crotch. Her eyes widened.

_Oh look. It actually **was** possible to blush harder._

Figuring he'd humiliated himself this much, Soul decided he might as well just go ahead and lay down all his cards. "I always thought you were a-attractive. I've been hung up on you for years, but I… never had the guts to do anything about it until recently."

There was ringing silence in the apartment for several seconds, during which time Soul's stomach dropped and his heart beat hard enough he was certain he was going to have bruised ribs. Maka's eyes stayed glued to his dick for another few moments before sliding up to meet his own, her mouth hanging open slightly in what he ordinarily- had he not just blurted out something that could make or break his entire future- would have found an utterly endearing expression of surprise.

_Come on, come on, come on, say something!_

"You have feelings… for me?"

He nodded. "For a really long time now."

He only had a split-second to catch sight of the broad grin that broke across her face before she had flung herself on him and assaulted his lips enthusiastically with her own. Her lips were still pulled tight in a smile that made it hard to kiss him, but she didn't let that stop her, and he wasn't quite sure what had just happened but apparently smiles were contagious because he was having a hard time keeping his own lips from turning up in a grin.

After a few moments, Maka settled down to the Very Serious Business of Kissing, which involved an awful lot of lip-nibbling and grabbing his hair. Soul was still confused as to how they had gone from major sex appeal meltdown to a ferocious makeout session, but he wasn't questioning it because within two minutes he had one handful of corduroy-covered meister-tit and another of (barely) denim-covered meister-ass, and goddamn if her mouth wasn't _amazing_.

_God, he loved this girl._

He didn't realize that one of her hands had slid down from its place on his chest until he heard the metallic sound of his zipper being tugged down, at which point he wrenched his lips away from the place on her neck he had been cheerfully sucking on up to that point.

"Whu…?" He stared at Maka with wide eyes as she finished unzipping his pants.

She gave him a warm, sultry smile that made him just a bit lightheaded. "I wouldn't be a very good girlfriend if I got you all worked up and then made you deal with it on your own, would I?"

There were many brain-melting pieces of information contained in that sentence, so Soul latched onto the one that was easiest to digest. "G-girlfriend?" he asked, trying very hard not to let out an extremely unmanly whimper when Maka stroked his hard on through his boxers.

"Yeah. Girlfriend." A lingering bout of insecurity flared in her eyes and she added, more uncertainly, "If you want me to be, that is."

She was such an adorable combination of sweet and sexy and shy that he had to kiss her. "Of course I want that," he mumbled against her lips. "Crazy about you."

"Good," she said, pulling back just a bit. "I want that, too."

_Yeah, this was officially the best day **ever**_.

He had big plans to kiss her until neither of them could breathe, but her busy little hands tugging at his boxers distracted him, and then suddenly she had his dick out and her hand wrapped around him and that was the end of any planning abilities Soul had left.

Maka looked at his penis for just long enough to make him nervous, studying it with the same kind of intensity she usually reserved for notes and textbooks, and it was both embarrassing and bizarrely hot. Just when he was about to tell her to stop staring at it if she wasn't going to do anything with it, her loose grip around his shaft tightened and pulled a low groan from him.

She looked up to meet his eyes with her own wide emerald gaze. "I've… never done this before, so if I do something wrong, tell me, okay?"

Soul nodded, too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was actually happening to string together a coherent response.

Tentatively, she began to glide her hand up and down his erection, stroking him with maddening slowness. Her touch was much lighter than his own when he did this himself, but oh dear_ god_ even with that it somehow felt ten times better than his hasty jerk-off sessions.

"H-harder," he groaned, and when her hand tightened just that little bit more it was all he could do not to melt into a little puddle of goo.

She seemed to have gotten the hint that she wouldn't hurt him if she was more forceful, because she increased her pace along with her grip and Soul thought he was going to _die_ it felt so good. The slight calluses on her palms from handling his _other_ shaft were amazingly stimulating as they rubbed against _this_ one, and when she brushed against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his dick, he threw his head back against the back of the sofa, teeth sunk into his bottom lip in a futile attempt to hold back a moan.

Maka ran her thumb over the head, spreading around the pre-cum that was gathering there and _shit_, there was no way he was going to last long with how amazing this felt. How he was ever going to go back to his own hand after this, he had no-

"Uh_god_," he moaned, as Maka's small fingers found a hypersensitive spot where the head met the shaft.

Soul's hips spasmed as he came, hard and unexpected. His eyes clenched shut and he probably made sounds that he was going to be embarrassed about later, but _goddamn he did not care_, because he was pretty sure he had just discovered religion. His entire body was practically numb with pleasure and he saw stars on the inside of his eyelids.

As he came down from his high, he became aware of a warm weight against his side, and opened his eyes to find Maka cuddled up close to him with her head on his shoulder, examining the white liquid on her fingers curiously. To his endless relief, she didn't say anything like "That was fast" or something, because he was pretty sure he would've died of embarrassment on the spot. It wasn't his fault if she had inhumanly wonderful hands!

"_Holy shit_," he breathed, once he was sure his voice wouldn't squeak like he was fifteen all over again.

Maka glanced up at him with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Good?" she asked, entirely pleased with herself.

Rather than reply aloud, Soul kissed her, knowing no other way to express the fact that she had simultaneously given him the best orgasm of his life and completely altered his perceptions of her. Yeahhhh…. that image he'd had of innocent, virginal Maka was going to have to be put up on the shelf.

He should've known better, he supposed. Maka was always subverting his expectations of her at every turn. He did his best to make his appreciation clear as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly, nibbling lightly along her lip in that way she liked as he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close.

The kiss was broken when Maka made a little noise of frustration into his mouth and pulled away.

"Wha-"

"I want to touch you, but-!" She made a sour face and held up her sticky hand.

Oh.

Right.

"Sorry," he said, entirely certain his face was approaching the same shade as his eyes. _Way to go, dumbass, your girlfriend gives you a mind-blowing handjob and you can't even manage to warn her before you come all over her hand._

On the other hand- no pun intended- she was, in fact, his girlfriend now. It seemed like such a small word for everything that she meant to him,

Maka chuckled. "You're messy," she teased, kissing his cheek. "I'm gonna go clean up, okay?"

She got to her feet, but before she could go far, he called her name. When she glanced back at him, he gave her a shy grin. "You're beautiful, Maka," he told her. "Don't doubt that, okay?"

He was still red in the face, and he could feel his cheeks grow even warmer as he said it, but the beaming smile she gave him made it more than worth it.


	3. Insanity

**A/N-** Aaaaaand now that we've had the stupidly fluffy smutty chapter, how about a nice angsty sad chapter?

* * *

**Day 3: Insanity**  
_Summary: Soul struggles to come to terms with what happened in Russia, and  
old insecurities mixed with new fears get the best of him._

* * *

Soul slouched through the corridors of the DWMA, pondering if it was really worth going to his soul studies class. He was already closing in on ten minutes late, and he had a free period afterwards, so it might be better to go find a quiet place and try to catch a nap.

He hadn't been sleeping well since his slip into madness in Russia.

It took awhile for the full implications of the Moscow incident to really hit him. In the aftermath, Soul had been too dazed from the combination of a painfully abrupt return to sanity and a record-setting Maka Chop in quick succession to really process what had just happened. After their return to Death City, however, was another story entirely.

The first night after the mission in Russia had been sleepless. It had finally begun to sink in just how serious the whole affair had been. He had attacked his professor, his friends, his _meister_, and nearly robbed Stein of his hard-won sanity. The fact that he had stopped himself and seized control all on his own without anyone holding his hand and walking him through it probably should have been reassuring, and at the time it had been. He had been _proud _of himself in the immediate aftermath. Actually proud, like he had fucking accomplished something instead of what he'd really done, which was put people he cared about in danger because he couldn't keep his shit together.

What made the whole thing worse was that he had _known_ something wasn't right. He had been feeling off. He had sensed the black blood stirring before they had even left Death City, felt the deep ache in his old wound as madness crept into the back corners of his mind. No matter how much Maka wanted to track down Crona, he should have refused the mission. It wasn't worth putting her or anyone else in danger to try and force himself to work when his sanity was touch and go as it was.

All things considered, Soul was pretty disgusted with himself. He had fucked up and fucked up _bad_. Soul had never been good at letting his failures go, and it took more mental effort than he had to spare to suppress the dark thoughts that crept in the back of his mind any time he thought of his lapse in control… which was pretty much always.

It was going to take awhile to smother the self-recrimination as it was, but he hadn't anticipated the public backlash. The Academy was a first-class gossip mill on the best of days, so it wasn't surprising that several varying accounts of what had happened in Moscow (a few of which were even mostly accurate) spread through the school like a particularly virulent strain of the plague. He supposed either Kim or Jackie must have said something, or else the mission report had been leaked. It didn't really matter how the story had gotten out, because the end result was the same.

The change in peoples' attitudes toward Soul gave him whiplash.

During his early days in Death City, Soul had been given a fair share of mocking for his appearance, which was nothing he wasn't used to already. That had died down pretty fast, though, much faster than he had expected. Perhaps it was because there were plenty of people with unusual appearances in Death City, so an albinoid kid with shark teeth wasn't as horrifying as he had seemed elsewhere. Still, when he had been a dumbass preteen just hoping for a fresh start unburdened by his past and family reputation, it had still sucked. But if he had thought that had been rough, it was nothing compared to the way people reacted after the story of his breakdown in Moscow became public knowledge.

The kids in the NOT class were terrified of him. The upperclassmen looked at him with obvious fear in their eyes, and some of the middle school age kids actually ran away when they saw him, like he was the monster under the bed. He didn't even have to worry about crowds in the hallway anymore, because the second he came within sight, people scattered. Every corridor was like the Red fucking Sea and he was Crazy Moses. No one wanted to be caught alone with him, and touching him was clearly horrifying, if the looks he'd gotten when he accidentally brushed up against people were anything to go by.

It was like he was contagious.

But if the non-combat students were afraid of him, it was nothing compared to the way his fellow EAT students reacted. He was the number one _persona non grata_ around the DWMA, and for good reason.

For the ten percent of students who were combat-trained, there could be no worse crime than turning on your fellow Academy members. Other weapons and meisters were your brothers- and sisters-in-arms, and only their sworn duty to protect the whole world from evil took priority over protecting each other. An unprovoked attack on a fellow student or a staff member for any reason was tantamount to treason in the eyes of an EAT student or graduate. It was a code that Soul had lived by since he was eleven years old, and something he took very seriously… but that hadn't mattered much when his veins were flooded with black and his head was ringing too loud to think. He had lost control, given in to madness, and violated the most sacred unwritten rule of the Academy.

It didn't surprise him that the other EAT students hated him. He wasn't too fond of himself these days. Soul had never been what anyone would call his own biggest fan, though he did a rather good job of pretending otherwise, but although his self-esteem had never exactly been good by anyone's standards, he couldn't remember ever feeling quite this low. Lately he honest-to-god _hated_ himself. It had been with no small amount of bitterness that Soul realized that no matter how much his classmates disliked him, they couldn't possibly match how much he loathed himself.

Still, the reactions of his classmates hadn't helped. The way people avoided meeting his eyes, or otherwise stared at him with a cold, disapproving look, or looked at him as if he were a _thing_… it made him feel inhuman. Soul had always had sensitive hearing, and it had served him well both as a musician and as a weapon, but for the first time in his life, he wished that he were a little bit deaf. Being so attuned to the voices around him made it hard to ignore the whispering in public spaces.

_"There he is… that weapon who went crazy on a mission and attacked his meister."_

_"Didn't you hear? Soul Eater lost it."_

_"I heard there's something wrong with him, he's really susceptible to madness."_

_"Shouldn't someone like that be reassigned to non-combat status?"_

_"Or a psych ward."_

_"He tried to infect Professor Stein, did you hear? He attacked him with a madness wavelength and almost made him lose control."_

_"It makes me really uncomfortable, knowing he could just lose it at any second. Like, are we safe? Lord Death should really be doing something about him."_

_"I heard that when that witch Medusa infiltrated the Academy, she did something to him to make him go crazy."_

_"Why would they let someone like that become a death scythe?"_

Soul stuffed his hands in his pockets and scowled at the tiled floor.

It felt like his ears were constantly buzzing with these kinds of words whispered the instant he turned his back, and he walked around with a constant knot in his stomach because he couldn't even refute any of it. It was all true. He _was_ half-mad. He _was_ dangerous and a liability. He _had_ attacked his partner and nearly driven Professor Stein to madness. He deserved every bit of censure and scathing sent his way, and probably more besides.

His friends had been trying to help, and he appreciated the efforts even if he didn't deserve them. Black*Star and Kilik made a point to invite him to hang out with them more than usual, but he usually turned them down. Soul liked spending time with his friends, but being social was draining, and these days he just didn't have the energy to pretend everything was okay. It wouldn't be fair to drag their mood down with him. It was far more productive to just go home and try to get some sleep… and considering he hadn't been able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time since it had happened, that was saying something.

The other members of Spartoi had been flocking around him as much as possible during the school day. He knew what they were doing. They were trying to put themselves as a wall between him and the rest of the student body, like they could somehow insulate him from the consequences of his mistakes. It was a futile effort, and although he appreciated the sentiment, it didn't seem right to make his friends clean up his mess.

Besides, he was dangerous. Wasn't it better to put some distance between himself and other people? He'd thought he was fine for so long, he'd almost gotten to the point where he actually thought he knew every trick his black blood and the demon in his mind could throw at him… and he'd been wrong. He'd been wrong and foolish and it was nothing short of a miracle that nobody had been seriously injured as a result. What was to say that something like that couldn't happen again? What if next time he wasn't able to stop himself, and ended up hurting a friend or a classmate… or Maka?

Ah, yes. Maka. This whole thing hadn't been easy on her, either. She hadn't said anything, but he thought she was taking some heat, too. No, scratch that. Based on the conversation he'd had with some underclassman whose name he hadn't bothered to remember, she was _definitely_ being bothered about it.

* * *

_"Soul?"_

_He glanced up at the pigtailed girl who had interrupted his lunch for- apparently- the sole purpose of introducing herself. "What?"_

_Her hands were clasped behind her back, pushing her ample chest forward noticeably but somehow managing to make her look innocent at the same time. She rocked up onto her toes and then back, a cheerful sort of fidgeting that only served to enhance the schoolgirlish-ness of her presentation. "Well, the thing is, Soul, I'm not sure you have the right partner," she informed him._

_"Excuse me?"_

_She smiled a simpering little smile. "You see, after that mess she got you into in Russia… well, it's really not fair for her to keep expecting you to stay with her."_

_Soul was so utterly flabbergasted that he just stared at her. _

_Apparently she took his silence as an invitation to continue, because she added, "It happened because she wanted to go looking for that weird witch-kid with the weapon in their body, right? She put you in that situation. I really think you deserve a meister who puts your needs first, instead of prioritizing some traitor over you. I wouldn't ever force you to risk your safety that-"_

_It took Soul longer than he was proud of to get his head around what she was insinuating- no, not insinuating, outright _stating_- and unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Once he figured out exactly what she was getting at, the flash of black anger that boiled in his blood was almost frightening in its intensity. He jerked to his feet so fast that the empty table he'd been sitting at skidded several inches in the opposite direction._

_"Don't fucking talk to me," he snarled, taking a kind of sadistic pleasure in the frightened expression that took over her face as he bared his teeth at her. "Don't talk to me and don't you dare talk to Maka unless you wanna see a repeat of Russia right here and now. Stop saying shit about what you don't understand, got it?"_

_He didn't even bother to wait for a response. He grabbed his notebook and abandoned his lunch tray, stalking off to a quiet corner of the school's courtyard to sit quietly and try to calm the seething in his veins before he really did lose control again..._

* * *

Just thinking about it made Soul kick at the baseboard beneath the lockers in frustration.

That whoever-she-was had been the only girl to approach him with something like that. He wasn't surprised, because the number of girls confessing to him or leaving highly suggestive "partnership requests" in his locker had dropped dramatically after the rumors about his madness started flying. There definitely were still a few interested parties, because a slow but steady trickle of love notes still found their way to him, but not nearly as many as before. The only conclusion Soul could derive from this was that clearly some girls were crazier than he was.

It was a small consolation not to have to clean out his locker three times a day anymore.

But just because only one person had confronted him in a pitiful attempt to get him to leave Maka didn't mean that others weren't thinking- and probably saying- the same things. He hadn't heard much of it, because even his few remaining admirers were keeping their distance lately, but just because he wasn't hearing it didn't mean she wasn't. Girls could be cruel. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if these rumors twisting the truth around to reflect badly on Maka had reached her ears by now.

Come to think of it, that could explain why Maka had been so distant lately, he thought morosely as he wandered down the hall. Or at least, he hoped that was why. Maybe it was a little bit sick of him to think that way, but he hoped it was only that she'd been getting grief from other girls and was feeling bad about it, because she had a stupid tendency to blame herself for stuff that was his fault. It wasn't that he wanted her to feel bad or guilty, that wasn't it at all. But it was better than some of the explanations his mind had been coming up with, better than the paranoia that she was rethinking her decision to partner up with such an unstable freak.

After their experiences in the Book of Eibon, things had changed between them. They had come to an understanding and they were closer than ever. Up until Russia, Soul had actually thought they were getting closer to becoming more than friends, which was ludicrous in hindsight but he'd been delusional enough to think it at the time.

Lately, though, she was often distracted. Her mood had soured noticeably, and she frequently disappeared from his side during the school day with no apparent explanation. She looked tired all the time now, and she was often making excuses to stay late at school without him. He was sure she was avoiding him, and the possible reasons why terrified him.

"-ka Albarn? Yeah, that's what I heard, too."

The sound of his meister's name caught Soul's attention. He had finally reached the library, still intent on trying to take a nap while he could, but he froze outside the door, pressing himself up against the wall out of sight so that he could hear better. The speaker was a deep-voiced male, and Soul pricked his ears up, already pretty certain he was going to regret eavesdropping but unable to stop himself.

"Damn, if I was in her shoes I'd probably do the same thing." Another young man, and this time a voice that Soul vaguely recognized. He couldn't quite place it, but the raspy tone was familiar, and he thought it was one of the older meisters in the NOT class.

"No kidding. I always thought it was weird that a nice girl like that would partner with a guy like Eater."

A snort of laughter. "I mean, he was fucking scary before he went nuts, but these days… I wouldn't want him for a partner either."

"Yeah, man. I was starting to think she wasn't as smart as everybody says she is until Beth told me she was bailing."

Soul's stomach plummeted. They couldn't possibly mean what he thought they meant… could they?

"Who'd she say Maka's new partner is again?"

They were. Oh god.

"She wasn't totally sure, but she saw her hanging out with Kimball Zaman a couple times last week, so it's probably him."

"Damn, no way!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Shame she's already found somebody. I wouldn't have minded being her partner."

"And have to work as hard as she does? No way in hell, man."

"I dunno. Eater slacked off a lot, and she made him a death scythe. Besides, have you seen her _legs_?"

Outside the library, Soul was leaning heavily against the wall, feeling like a vice had clamped onto his lungs. He couldn't seem to take a deep breath, and his heart was fluttering frantically against his ribs, pumping his toxic blood through his veins at breakneck speed and making him lightheaded. Maka? Get a new partner?

No.

Maybe.

Hadn't she tried to end their partnership once before? That time it had been because she had thought (stupidly) that she somehow wasn't good enough, but if she could call things off for that reason, couldn't she also do it for others? She'd done what she set out to do with him. She'd made him a death scythe, almost the youngest in history. Technically speaking, their work together could be considered complete. And he was, after all, a liability.

Before he could hear any more and break his own heart further in the process, Soul bolted.

* * *

He slammed the front door of their apartment closed behind him, twisting the lock nearly hard enough to break it in his desperation to seal himself in.

Soul leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. He had run flat out the entire distance from the Academy to the apartment, and it was painfully obvious that, although he was in good shape as all EAT students were expected to be, he was nowhere near the endurance level of a typical meister. A "sprint" of several miles had left him completely winded.

The thing was, he was pretty sure he'd be having a hard time breathing whether he'd run or not.

He couldn't deal with this. He just couldn't deal with this anymore and _holy shit_ he sounded like Crona but maybe that was fucking appropriate considering they were apparently on the same level of crazy these days. This whole thing was messed up. _He_ was messed up.

If Maka was looking for a new weapon, why wouldn't she tell him? At least give him some warning to he could work on finding a new place to live? He wasn't naive enough to think that Maka would wanting him staying with her. He was a ticking time bomb, had been since the minute Ragnarok slashed him open, only he hadn't realized it until now, and nobody wants to cohabitate with live explosives.

But she didn't owe him anything. He most definitely owed her a lot, owed her for every happy moment since he'd set foot in Death City and most of the happy moments of his life _period_, but she owed him absolutely nothing. Not even two weeks' notice.

Soul stumbled into the living room and finally let his legs give out. He collapsed onto the couch, slumped over with his head in his hands. He felt exhausted, but also wound up and tense and shaky. Anxiety was something Soul was painfully familiar with, a demon of a different sort that he would forever associate with red velvet curtains and theaters full of staring eyes.

He had forgotten how to handle this.

His trembling fingers knotted themselves into his hair and he pulled painfully tight on his scalp, trying to anchor himself so that he could just think clearly but it didn't help. He was just… _god_, he was just so _tired_, literally and figuratively. He was tired of being stared at, of being whispered about, of being looked at like he was subhuman, of always always _always_ being less than what was expected. He was tired of walking the highwire that was his sanity with no safety net, and he was _so goddamn tired of being terrified of himself_. If he wasn't already crazy, well then he was headed there pretty fucking fast.

Soul pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stop the burning sensation building behind them, but it didn't seem to help.

"Fucking dammit," he choked.

What was he supposed to do? Where was he going to go? Getting another meister was out of the question, because he couldn't possibly risk spreading the black blood to someone else. Not everyone had Maka's anti-madness wavelength to protect them, and he wouldn't endanger anyone else if he could help it (although the thought crept in that he was endangering everyone around him just by being there, which he tried and failed to selectively forget). Besides, no one would have him anyway. He was damaged goods, and nobody wanted a defective weapon.

He could try to fight on his own but it had been proven repeatedly that he was no good at that, and he didn't dare dedicate himself to being Lord Death's weapon. If he lost it while the shinigami was wielding him…

He shivered. That would be a disaster of truly epic proportions.

"I just want everything to stop," he choked out, throat too tight to speak above a whisper. "Is that too much to ask?"

He needed an escape hatch. A pause button. A ride out of town. _Something_. He just wanted to catch his fucking breath.

The obvious answer was to run. He'd done it before. He could leave Death City just like he'd left his family and start again somewhere new. He didn't know where he'd go or what he'd do, but the idea was as appealing now as it had been six years ago when he'd fled the Evans family estate. Just throwing off the baggage he'd accumulated, going somewhere where no one had any particular expectations of him except that he be a functional almost-adult was appealing. It was almost overwhelming, in fact, just how much he wanted to run somewhere he wouldn't have to… to… he didn't know what. Just _something_.

But he couldn't do it. No matter how much he wanted to, Death City was where he was meant to be and Maka was his home. After seeing her laid bare in the Book of Eibon, he had sworn he would never leave her unless she ordered him away (and until the disaster in Russia, he had figured that even then he'd put up a damn good fight). Too many people who had claimed to love her had let her down and left her, and he couldn't be another name on that list. He _couldn't_.

It didn't really matter, though, because he was about to be replaced, like a broken tool that had lost its usefulness.

He was going to lose Maka, and it was going to be all his own damn fault. He was a twisted-up, pathetic sonofabitch who wasn't strong enough to handle the hand he'd been dealt; she had always deserved better and she'd finally wised up and was finding a weapon who was good enough for her. He'd always wondered when it would happen, because the thing was, he was never good enough for the people he loved. He'd thought for awhile there that maybe, just maybe, this time he was, but that was a fucking delusion. Of course.

Some tiny, rational part of him was aware that Maka ending their partnership would be best for her. She would be safer with a weapon who didn't have poison in his veins, and he wanted what was best for her… but dammit, couldn't what was best for her also be what was best for him? Because Soul had no doubt that being close to her was what was best for him. It wasn't just that he loved her. It was that being around her made him feel safe and sane and whole and he didn't know how to handle the prospect of losing that. He didn't know how to handle losing the sound of her off-key humming while she made breakfast each morning, or the way her nose scrunched up when she laughed, or the way she held out her hands to him without fear.

Was she afraid of him now? Was that it? She had been so angry in Moscow, right after it had happened, but when Maka was scared, she usually reverted instinctively to anger. At the time he'd thought it was fear for him but in hindsight… maybe it was fear _of_ him.

That was a thought Soul _really_ wasn't prepared for, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to silence himself as the moisture in his eyes spilled over.

* * *

Maka turned the key in the lock, biting her lip as she wrestled with the stubborn door handle. She was either mad or worried, and which was going to depend on what she found on the other side of the door, but she was leaning heavily toward the former. Soul used to skip class with some regularity, but the habit had decreased dramatically after he was infected with the black blood and had entirely disappeared by the time he became a death scythe. She wasn't remotely amused that he hadn't bothered to turn up for soul studies, but the fact that she couldn't find him anywhere on campus despite spending their entire free period searching had her feeling like something was wrong.

Finally succeeding in getting the stupid key to turn, Maka wrenched the door open and sucked in a breath to shout for Soul. Not a sound left her lips, however, because a soft whimpering sound reached her ears.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Maka zeroed in on the sight of her weapon's unmistakable shock of white hair visible over the back of the couch. He was hunched over with his head was buried in his hands, fingers clenched in his pale locks, and his shoulders were visibly shaking.

Was he… was Soul _crying?_ Maka froze in confused astonishment. In all the years they had been partners, she could never once remember Soul crying for any reason. Even when he had been in agony during his recovery after Crona ripped him apart, he had just grit his teeth and borne it. That he was crying now was strange. Why…?

A particularly pathetic little sob shook her out of her momentary paralysis, and then she was flying across the room, never more grateful for how small their apartment was until this exact moment because it meant she didn't have as far to go to reach his side. When she rounded the end of the couch, she saw that his teeth were sunk into his bottom lip so hard she was surprised he wasn't bleeding in a futile attempt to muffle the sounds of his crying. Maka crouched in front of him, her instincts screaming at her to grab onto him and not let go until he was okay, but she resisted the urge for the moment.

"Soul?" she asked quietly.

He twitched, jerking backwards and raising his head from his hands in startlement, clearly having only just realized she was there. He looked terrible, haggard and sleep-deprived. His eyes were bloodshot, which was a strange thing to see on someone whose irises were naturally a shade just darker than freshly spilled blood. His face was streaked with tear tracks.

"O-oh. You're home," he said, in the shaky tremulous voice of someone who is desperately trying not to sob with every word.

"You never showed up for class." Her voice was just above a whisper. "I was worried."

Soul opened his mouth as if to speak, but a moment later he had clamped his lips shut again and his eyes along with them, drawing in a shaky breath through his nose. The whole picture was so miserable that Maka herself felt like crying.

She hoisted herself up onto the couch beside him and gave in to the overpowering need to hug him, pulling him close to her. He was so much bigger than her now (when on earth had that happened, anyway?) but she made it work, curling her left arm around his shoulders and her right around his waist, wrapping herself around him as much as she could. Soul didn't even resist, he simply collapsed against her, hiding his face against her shoulder.

"Soul, what happened?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I-I just… its… Maka, I- you- I can't…"

She shushed him, rubbing calming circles on his back. "Never mind. Tell me later," she murmured. It wouldn't do any good to try and get him to talk in this state. He needed to calm down before anything else.

Soul was trembling. "Sorry. Shit, I'm a m-mess. Sorry," he mumbled against her shoulder.

"Don't apologize, it's okay. Whatever it is, we'll make it better, okay? We'll fix it."

For some reason, this made him let out another choked sob, and he shifted to wrap his arms around her torso and pressed himself closer. His damp, overheated cheek rested beside her neck and she felt his humid breath across her collarbone. The shoulder of her sweater grew damp as Soul failed spectacularly at stopping his tears.

It frightened her to see her stoic partner so out of sorts. He always kept such a stiff upper lip, which tended to make him a good counterbalance for her, for she wore her heart on her sleeve. She'd seen him angry, she'd seen him scared and frustrated, but this was different. He was sobbing like his heart was breaking, and it was killing her. No one should ever have to feel like this, though she knew it was an inevitability of being alive, and the fact that it was her own beloved partner just made it worse. He was a part of her, and what hurt him hurt her, even if she didn't know what it was. It was enough just to know that he was upset.

His soul was squirming with black unhappiness and tinged with distant embarrassment. She became aware that he was whispering apologies into her sweater, chanting regret like a mantra. "Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sor-"

"Shhh, you don't need to be sorry," she told him. She felt like she should say something else, but she didn't have the words, especially not knowing what had made him so unhappy.

Since words had failed her, she reached out with her soul instead, surrounding his and offering any comfort she could through silent channels. She sent out calming pulses of her wavelength, doing her best to keep an even tempo because she knew Soul would respond well to that. Maka ran her fingers through his hair, carding through the thick strands; he'd always liked having his hair played with, something she'd discovered at some point in the third year of their partnership. He usually reacted to her fingers in his hair the same way a kitten did, leaning into the attention and all but literally purring with contentment. It wasn't quite as effective at this particular moment, but he did breathe a little easier.

She wasn't sure how long it took before Soul steadied. It felt like an eternity to the young meister, who had never before in her life seen her partner shed so much as a single tear. Finally, though, Soul's tears did subside, though neither of them made any move to draw back from their embrace. If anything, Maka pulled him closer, holding him tight as he trembled in the aftermath.

"Sorry I, uh, kinda cried all over your sweater," he mumbled eventually, voice hoarse and sounding highly embarrassed.

"It'll wash," she brushed off. "Soul, what's wrong?"

"It's-"

"Soul, if you say 'it's nothing' I swear I am going to chop you into next week," she growled, sounding far less aggravated than she had been trying for. But then again, it was hard to sound fed up with someone when all you wanted to do was wrap him in cotton and protect him from everything and everyone. "You're obviously upset, so tell me what happened."

He sighed, his warm breath fanning over the bare skin of her neck and raising involuntary goosebumps. "It's… a lot of things, I guess," he said quietly. "Things have just been… tough, lately."

She nodded but said nothing. Soul could be led better with silence than with pestering. As always, he would talk when he was ready.

"Hey Maka?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you… scared of me?"

She blinked, positive she had to have misheard. "Why would I be scared of you?"

"I'm dangerous."

Maka let out a soft chuff of laughter, leaning her head against his, cheek resting on his hair. "You can transform into an enormous living scythe, of course you're dangerous. This isn't new information, Soul."

He made a frustrated grumbling noise. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Maka, I'm not safe to be around."

It was said in such a soft voice that she almost missed it. If he hadn't still been leaning against her shoulder, inches from her ear, she never would have heard him. As it was, it took her several seconds of mental processing to work out what he'd said, and several more to understand what he was getting at. When it finally registered, Maka took an educated guess and asked, "This is about what happened in Russia, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

She bit her lip, feeling dismayed. "Soul, you can't-"

"You've heard what people have been saying, right? That I'm not fit to be a death scythe, let alone _your_ weapon-" He broke off sharply as his voice cracked on the last word, sounding very much like he was fighting off another round of tears.

Maka thought her heart might actually break at how despondent he sounded. "It's not like you to be so affected by what people think," she observed.

He shook his head, and mumbled something she couldn't hear into the fabric of her sweater.

"What was that?" she asked.

In a voice only just barely louder, he repeated: "There's a big difference between not caring what people think and not _showing_ that you care what people think."

Somehow, she felt she shouldn't have been surprised by this statement. Maka sighed and threaded her fingers through his hair again. Her partner was stoic to a fault. His face never gave anything away, and getting him to open up and talk was like trying to pull teeth using only a plastic spork and an emery board. No wonder he was having a meltdown- if she bottled up her emotions the way he did, the eventual explosion would probably level Death City! It wasn't healthy to keep everything hidden inside like that.

"For once in my life I just wanted to not be the freak," he said in what he probably thought was a calm tone, but the fact that his voice was still wavering a little, as though he wasn't entirely sure he was done crying, betrayed him. "I wanted to be _worth_ something."

"Soul- I... What in the world makes you think you're not worth something?" she sputtered. She felt so confused and sad and most of all guilty, because this clearly wasn't just the fallout from the Moscow incident making him feel like this. This wasn't even just the black blood talking, although that surely didn't help. There was some kind of poison in the way Soul thought of himself that had been there far longer, and she'd never known.

"S'always been this way," he said, voice cracking tellingly. "Bad enough I was born looking like some kinda demon, but then I had to be an incompetent piece of shit who can't even play the piano right. My parents already had their golden child… I was just extra baggage. But then it turned out I was a weapon and I thought… maybe… maybe I could do this right, so I came to Death City and-" He broke off sharply and his fingers clenched convulsively on the fabric of her sweater. "Then when you made me a death scythe I thought that was it, I finally mattered, but… but I didn't do that, you did, and-"

"Stop right there," Maka said firmly. "_I_ didn't make you a death scythe, _we_ did… or did you forget what being partners means?"

Soul let go of her at last, pulling away from her embrace despite her attempt to keep him there. His hands still clung to her clothes for a few moments before he could convince them to let go. Ignoring her meaning in favor of her words, he said softly, "I thought you were looking for a _new_ partner."

_What?_

"What on earth would make you think that?"

"Some guy said you were hanging out with that glaive a year below us… Kimball Zaman? I thought you might want to start fresh. Work with a weapon who isn't… broken."

Maka wasn't sure if she wanted to smack him or hug him some more, because he'd jumped to such stupid conclusions but he looked so miserable she couldn't stand it. "Soul, I'm not sure what you heard, but the reason I was talking to Kimball was because he was spreading awful lies about what happened in Moscow and I wanted to make sure that he knew if he didn't shut his mouth about you I was gonna break his jaw."

Soul stared at her with bloodshot eyes for a long moment, then scoffed and looked away. "I'm stupid," he muttered.

"You're not stupid, Soul," she replied.

He scrubbed at his damp cheeks in an irritated fashion, apparently looking for a distraction, and pointedly not acknowledging her statement.

"You're _not_," she insisted. "You're…"

But how could she continue? _Amazing, brave, strong, the most beautiful person I've ever known_… it was all true, but she wasn't even sure Soul would believe a word of it if she said so. Baby steps, then.

"You've been feeling this way for a long time, haven't you?" she asked instead.

He shrugged. "There are good days and bad days," he said, which she took for a yes.

"Some partner I am," she mumbled to herself. "You've been hurting like this for so long, and I had no idea."

"I didn't want you to," Soul replied. "I… tried to keep it out of resonance. You don't need to have my issues dumped on you-"

"Soul, we are _partners!_" she interrupted him. She was suddenly angry, not so much at Soul for shutting her out, but at anything and everything that had contributed to him feeling so much self-loathing that he didn't even feel he could turn to her when he needed her. "That means your problems are my problems. Whenever anything is wrong in my life you help me, so let me help you, okay?"

She reached out with her wavelength and sent a rush of warmth flooding through their bond. At the same time she reached out and placed her hands on his cheeks, turning his face to make him meet her eyes. "Listen to me. You're not broken. You're not a freak. You're not dangerous. You're the strongest person I know and you're my best friend in the whole world and I love you so much, Soul. I hate that you've been dealing with this on your own for so long, so let me help, okay? When you feel like this, talk to me. Let me in."

Soul was staring at her with the most astounded expression on his face. "Maka…" he breathed.

"Promise me, okay? Promise you'll let me help you with this?"

He looked at her in a way that made her stomach feel fluttery, staring at her like she was the sun after winter, and said simply, "Okay."

Maka reached out and laced their fingers together reassuringly. "Just ignore what people are saying about you, okay? They don't know you, they don't know what really happened. What happened in Russia wasn't your fault. If anything, it was mine, and-"

"Have those girls been talking to you?" Soul interrupted, eyes narrowing sharply.

She knew instantly what he meant. She'd had more than a few notes stuffed through the vents of her locker featuring angry messages formed from cut and pasted magazine letters. "Not _directly_," she hedged, "but your little fan club likes to be really juvenile sometimes."

He groaned, but Maka only shook her head. "It's fine. They're annoying, but now that I know you wouldn't rather be partners with one of them they don't bother me any more. They're just lashing out because they're jealous… and besides, this time they actually have a point. I knew something was off with you before we ever walked into that warehouse, but I ignored my instincts and went ahead anyway." She sighed and glanced away, because it was Italy all over again. She had known better, but she had still walked into a stupid situation and Soul had paid the price for it.

Soul shook his head, as she had known he would. "It's not-"

"No, Soul, just let it be. I guess either of us could have said something, but we had a job to do, and dangerous situations are a part of it. And I'm really proud of you for how you handled it. You were able to break free from the madness by yourself, and that's really impressive."

"Really impressive would've been not losing my shit in the first place," Soul muttered.

Maka squeezed his hand, making him look up at her. "Soul, you were so far gone I couldn't even resonate with you to pull you back, but you got out of the madness yourself. That's something nobody else has been able to do. Justin Law couldn't do it, and he's a self-wielding weapon who's never even had a meister to begin with. Professor Stein couldn't do it, and he's the most talented meister in the history of the academy. Hell, even Kid needed Black*Star to help snap him out of it after everything he went through in the Book of Eibon. But you… you saved_ yourself_. That's amazing, and don't you dare tell yourself any differently."

He was giving her that look again. Before Maka could say another word, he had pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug. "Thank you," he said quietly, so quietly she wasn't totally sure she hadn't imagined it.

Maka hugged him back, concern and relief weighing on her heart in equal measure.

"Hey Maka?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you… maybe not tell anyone I cried?" he asked, the distant embarrassment she had sensed in him earlier moving to the forefront now that the emotional storm had cleared somewhat.

She chuckled softly. "This is just between you and me," she promised, and for the first time she felt like there were finally no more barriers between them. They'd both stopped hiding from each other at last. But, just to be sure…

"But Soul," she added, "if you ever need a shoulder to cry on again, I'm always here."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

**A/N part deux-** This, as you may have gathered, is set after the little misadventure in Moscow when they went to clean up Crona's mess, in the large gap between Maka chopping the hell out of Soul (which is one of the only times she actually does Maka-chop him in the entire last third of the manga) and when we finally see them again quite a few chapters later when they're hunting for sky whales, which is a chapter I try hard not to think about because it's the most random thing in the entire manga (excepting Tezca Tlipoca but we don't talk about him). It occurred to both myself and Smokey (who goes ErisandDysnomia on FFnet) during a late-night discussion that the emotional fallout from that event could be pretty severe, especially given that Soul is predisposed to melancholy by nature, susceptible to mental illness, and very clearly shown to have a really extreme degree of self-loathing lurking in the back of his mind. And that's basically what led to this. I believe Smokey was working on something similar, though I don't know if she's posting it today or not.


	4. Loyalty

**A/N-** Today's prompt is a collaboration with the lovely Ginger, who goes by Gentle Touch Ginger on ffnet and gingerthesnap on Tumblr. Shortly after I posted the list of SoMa Week prompts as decided by fandom vote, she contacted me and asked if I'd like to do a collab on one of the prompts. I thought it sounded fun, and this is the result! Ginger may also be posting this work to her SoMa Week collection or her Tumblr.

* * *

**Day 4: Loyalty**  
_Summary: Soul has a confession to make. Maka is not pleased._

* * *

Had the clock on their living room wall always been this loud? Soul would swear it had an echo. It was an antique, a gift from Spirit Albarn a few Christmases ago in an attempt to win back his daughter's affections. Maybe it was ticking so loud because it was malfunctioning. Was that a kind of malfunction fancy old clocks could have? He should stop winding it, then it wouldn't tick at all. But if he stopped winding it, he wouldn't know what time it was and he wouldn't know how much longer it would be before Maka got back from the meisters-only lesson.

Oh wait. Yes he would. He had a phone.

Geez he was dumb when he was nervous, wasn't he?

Soul fidgeted, tugging absently at the cozy afghan draped over the back of the couch, until he realized what he was doing and promptly stopped. He eyed the two stacks of envelopes sitting on the coffee table rather the way one might look at a nest of spiders.

The thing was, Maka was an insanely talented meister. She was one of the youngest people in history to create a death scythe, and a Shibusen legacy kid at that. She was smart. She was pretty. She was funny. She was kind (as long as she wasn't pissed at you, in which case she became hardbound-wielding death-on-legs). She was friendly. She was the kind of meister every weapon dreamed of having.

And Soul? Well, Soul had always been a little insecure, and becoming a death scythe didn't change that. So when he discovered the first partnership request stuck through the vent of her locker when he was grabbing her forgotten jacket for her, he couldn't help but fear that she might accept. Maybe not Barnaby Mills, because that asthmatic excuse for a rapier wasn't even close to Maka's level, but if a weedy kid like Barnaby was trying his hand, it was only a matter of time before others did. He certainly had been getting a steady trickle of them. And if Maka got a letter from a weapon she actually wanted to work with… what was stopping her? After all, she was done with him. She'd made a death scythe. What more did she need him for?

Logically, Soul knew that wasn't rational. Maka cared about him. They were roommates, they were friends- best friends, even. She wasn't going to go dumping him for some fancy new weapon she could also turn into a death scythe. Hopefully. But when it came to self-doubt, Soul was a certified professional, and he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his gut when he contemplated the idea that Maka had other options.

So, really, that was why he'd done it. He'd stolen Barnaby Mills' letter and every one thereafter. He'd gone out of his way to reach her locker before she did every day before school, and if she needed anything between classes he would usually volunteer to fetch it for her. At first she had commented on his uncharacteristic display of chivalry, but after a week or so of this behavior, she seemed to get accustomed to it and didn't question it any more. Soul took every opportunity to clear out her locker and make sure none of the partnership requests ever reached their intended recipient.

It was selfish, especially considering his own stream of partnership requests, love letters, and in-person confessions. Still, there was absolutely no chance in hell of him leaving his beloved meister, so that was a moot point anyway. Maka, though…

He just couldn't take the chance.

The idea of Maka leaving, of her packing her bags and moving off Somewhere Else to live with another partner, was painful. The idea of her wielding someone else, with no guarantees that her new weapon wouldn't be willing to lay down his life to keep her safe if the situation became dire was _terrifying_.

And so, morally questionable or not, Soul continued to steal her letters.

He read them all, scoffing at the other weapons' piss-poor attempts to sound impressive enough to deserve a meister like Maka. But then a note arrived in her locker from a boy a grade younger that Soul was absolutely positive was a meister. He hadn't been able to fathom why a meister would be sending another meister a partnership request… and then he had read it, and realized that the kid was suggesting an entirely different kind of partnership.

Soul didn't consider himself a jealous person by nature, but the mere idea of having to watch his meister date someone else was nauseating. Not that he had any plans to act on the feelings he _might or might not have _for said meister, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

The letters from weapons, he opened. One or two of them were love letters as well, but they were few and far between. Not many people wanted to profess their undying devotion to Death Scythe's daughter. The letters from people he knew were meisters, he left unopened. He kept them sorted into love letters and partnership requests and stuck them under his bed where Maka was unlikely to find them. It was a good system, he thought. Maka couldn't miss what she never knew was there in the first place, right?

It wasn't until after the Book of Eibon that Soul really started to think about the consequences of his actions.

The thing was, it had never once occurred to him that maybe Maka felt insecure sometimes, too. In hindsight, it seemed so obvious, but until he was confronted with the reality of her uncertainty and doubt, he had never even dreamed that she could think she wasn't good enough or that he would ever want someone else. True, she had once said something about not receiving any requests herself, but it had seemed like such a throwaway comment that he hadn't paid much attention, and responded idiotically with some snarky insult to her figure.

_Way to go, Soul, that was probably **great** for her self-esteem_, he berated himself.

Now that he thought about it, his attempts to play it cool with Maka really just ended up with him looking like an asshole, didn't they? Maybe he should stop trying so hard to hide how he really felt, because all this faking wasn't very productive.

Whatever. That was an issue for another day. Right now he had to deal with the fact that Maka had legitimately thought that she was inadequate, that she wasn't a good enough meister for him. Whether a part of her still thought that or whether he'd successfully convinced her that she was the only partner for him was irrelevant. The fact that such an idea could even enter her head wasn't cool at all, and he wasn't going to let this continue.

He just hoped she wasn't going to murder him once he fessed up.

The door abruptly swung open with a little more force than usual, and Soul most definitely did _not_ jump several feet in the air when it rebounded off the wall. While he was re-composing himself and trying to remember how to sit casually and make it look like his heart wasn't beating several thousand times faster than it should because he apparently couldn't handle loud noises now (seriously, what the _fuck_, he wasn't a jumpy person), Maka came in, her arms full of a stack of books that wouldn't fit into her bulging school bag.

"Sorry. Had to open the door with my foot, got a little carried away," she said, depositing her armload on the kitchen counter. "Hey, is that the mail? Looks like there's an awful lot."

"Uh…"

"Oh god. Did Blair sign herself up for a couple thousand mailing lists again? Because that was a nightmare last time, I thought we were going to drown in paper before we finally-"

"Hey Maka?"

She paused, her hand halfway extended to pull a drinking glass down from the cabinet. "What?"

"Could you come here for a second? I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

Abandoning her quest for a refreshing beverage, Maka crossed the floor to where he was tapping his fingers nervously against his knees, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What's up?"

Soul took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was it. She was probably going to hate him and any already slim chance he had of ever becoming more than friends with her was going to vanish. But it would be worth it for Maka to know just how valuable everyone around her thought she was, how much their peers admired and respected her. Right?

_God, stop overthinking shit, dumbass._

"I, uh, wanted to give you these," he said. He picked up the first stack of letters on the table before him, the pile of strictly professional partnership requests that had been opened and read, and handed the mass of envelopes to her.

She stared at them in confusion. "What's this?"

Soul huffed out a heavy breath, trying to slow his heartbeat. "They're, uh, partnership requests. For you. I took them from your locker."

Maka tilted her head for a moment, letting that sink in. She flipped through the letters briefly, not really looking at them, just processing. "You… stole these?" she asked slowly.

_Yep, here it comes…_

"Yeah."

_Now come on, dipshit, apologize for being such an insecure fuckhead before she really blows up and you end up destroying your partnership anyway!_

Soul opened his mouth to speak, but Maka beat him to the punch.

"I can't believe yo- I mean, I… why would you do that?"

The look on her face cut him to the core. She was clearly livid, but angry Maka he could deal with. It was the sadness and hurt lurking behind it, and the spark of hope he could feel in her soul that maybe he had a good explanation for his actions so that she wouldn't have to be upset with him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I guess I just… thought that if you didn't know you had options, you wouldn't leave." It was no good excuse and he knew it.

Maka huffed angrily, but her eyes were so, so sad. She opened and shut her mouth several times, trying to come up with words, and Soul wished she would just yell at him. He wished she would lash out and vent her anger because he knew how to deal with that, and he deserved it anyway because he'd been stupid, and anger could be spent and then it was over, but the look of hurt on her face… that, he didn't know how to deal with. He'd made her angry plenty of times, but he'd never really hurt her before, never given her any reason to doubt him.

"I… don't know what to say," she said finally. "I'm gonna… I'm just gonna go… be alone for awhile." She turned on her heel and marched into her bedroom. The sound of the door slamming behind her wasn't as loud as the front door had been, but Soul thought it was a far more painful sound.

Now he'd really gone and done it. He'd stolen from her. He'd lied to her and hid things from her and betrayed her trust. He supposed that in the end he really wasn't any better than her no-good father after all.

* * *

As soon as Maka walked into her room, she threw the conglomeration of envelopes and paper scraps onto her bed, a few striking the floor and making surprisingly sharp "clicks" as they landed. She paced across the floor, hands clenched into fists, the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into her palms dulled by the roar of fury surging through her like hot air.

He had no right, no right to take these! These were hers! Just because they were partners didn't give him the excuse to...to snoop in her stuff and keep things from her! She'd never, ever, do that to him! There were so many times where he'd wanted privacy and she'd given it to him! He hadn't told her about the Black Blood, or his nightmares, or any of his issues and she hadn't pressed him. Why had he invaded her privacy so thoroughly? All those times where she'd thought he was being kind…he'd been stealing from her?

Stealing, that's what this was. He'd stolen letters from her!

Part of her wanted to storm out of her room and scream at him. There were so many things she could tell him, so many ways she could hurt him. That she wouldn't be his partner anymore, that she'd never cared about him, that he was a huge jerk whom she never wanted to see again. Honestly, Maka wasn't too sure he'd fight back if she yelled at him right now.

She spun around to do just that, but slipped on one of the notes that had fallen to the ground and tore it. The ripping sound drew her attention, and she stopped in her tracks, looking down to examine the torn paper.

The note was written ridiculously formally, as if a partnership was nothing more than a business contract. It was dotted with big, fancy words- several of them misused- and signed in ridiculously loopy script. Despite everything, she smiled. The weapon was well below her level, Maka doubted he'd been on more than two missions, and she'd bet they all were supervised.

She walked over to the window and placed her arms on the sun-warmed sill, looking out over Death City. She could see the Academy from here, and the tip of the Gallows, the mansion where Kid, Liz, and Patty lived. In cat form, Blair was stalking a rat on the street below.

Death City was her home, it always had been, ever since she was a little kid. Though there was more to a home than just some walls. This place was full of people that loved her and cared about her, many that would lay down their lives for her. One that had on multiple occasions.

God, Soul really could be an idiot sometimes. Why had he hidden all these requests? She turned and sat on her bed, shuffling through the envelopes. All of them were like the first, formally written and most from weapons well below her level. Why had Soul felt threatened by these? Why had he felt threatened at all? There was no way she'd stop being his partner, not after everything they'd been through together. Had she ever told him how much she valued their partnership, or made sure he knew that his becoming a death scythe didn't change a thing, at least as far as she was concerned?

No, she hadn't. She hadn't felt she needed to, because of course Soul would know she was in this for the long haul. It went without saying, or so she'd thought. Apparently not. Maybe this was partially her fault? She'd never understood why, but she had often gotten the sense that Soul had some deep-seated insecurities weighing him down… yet another thing he never opened up to her about.

She felt anger flare in her blood again at the thought of just how closed-off Soul still remained with her. Being open with people wasn't easy for her either, but she still made an effort, dammit! She had shared with him all her secrets- well, most of them anyway. She wasn't asking for the same from him, but it wasn't too much to ask that he trust her, was it?

It hurt her that he didn't trust her not to go off and with some random weapon. Worse, he'd not only proved how little he trusted her; he'd also violated her privacy and hidden things from her.

And yet a part of her was forced to admit, however reluctantly, that Soul had looked really sad and scared when he'd handed over the stack of envelopes. His actions, however hurtful, hadn't been malicious. He'd been genuinely afraid she would leave him, and Maka knew all too well how bitter that tasted. She couldn't fault him for feeling desperate, even if the solution he'd come to was totally reprehensible.

Why did he always have to make things so complicated?

Maka walked over to the door, touching the knob gingerly. They'd have to talk about this, but Maka didn't know what to say to him. Surely he realized how deeply wrong his actions were, or he wouldn't have shown her the letters, but she wasn't ready to forgive him just yet.

But he needed to know, right now that she would never, ever leave him. She turned the knob and stepped into the apartment's main room, walking over to the sofa where he was seated.

"Soul…" she muttered, eyes glued to the carpet, working hard to keep her fists from clenching, "Why did you do this? I thought you knew I would never leave you for any of these weapons, Soul. I'd never leave you for anyone. So...why?"

Soul looked up sharply at the sound of Maka's door squeaking open. Okay, _now_ she looked mad, which was good because he could take the anger. Unfortunately, she still looked deeply hurt, which was _not_ so good because he didn't know how to fix it.

"I'm really really sorry, Maka," he said. "It was dumb and uncool and I really wish I hadn't done it."

"That's not what I asked," she gritted out, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Maka, I-"

"Soul, how could you- no, _why?_ Why did you? These were mine, you snooped in my stuff and you didn't trust me not to go running off. Why?!"

"I'm a Death Scythe now…" he muttered. "I thought you might wanna- I thought you'd want to train another weapon. You're always talking about being a great meister like your mom, and… well, I thought you were done with me."

God, it sounded so _stupid_ when he put it like that. He was an adult, dammit, he didn't need to have his hand held. If Maka had wanted to train another weapon, that would have been her prerogative, and he should have just sucked it up and dealt with it.

Maka wanted very badly to hold onto her anger, but she had finally raised her eyes to meet his and he looked terrible. Nothing had physically changed in the ten minutes she had spent fuming in her room, but he still somehow managed to appear more haggard than he had when she'd arrived home. It was really difficult to keep being furious with him when he looked like a whipped puppy. She sighed, and crossed her arms defensively across her chest.

"That's stupid," she grumbled. "Even leaving aside the fact that I would never, _never_ leave you… we're in the middle of a _war_, Soul! The fact that you think I'd want another weapon is dumb enough, but thinking I'd go off and take on a rookie _now_ of all times, with Asura on the loose is just… I mean, dear Death, Soul, what were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"

"Maka, I already said I was sorry!" he snapped, fighting the urge to growl at her. "How many times do I have to tell you what I did was wrong? I'm not going to make that mistake again, and I'm sorry! You have a right to be angry, just-"

"Just what, Soul? Not pretend that it didn't hurt me?"

His burst of frustration flickered out and he visibly deflated. "I guess not," he said more calmly. "Look, Maka, if you're gonna be pissed at me, I guess you might as well know all of it."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ones he had left behind, the letters from meisters and weapons alike, some full of passion, others oddly business like, others only a few words with a meeting place.

"They're love letters, Maka. I-" he hung his head, "I took these too. I'm sorry Maka, I really am. I shouldn't have taken any of it."

Maka reached out and plucked the envelopes from his hand. Numbly, she flipped through them, glancing at the names and taking in a few flowery professions of devotion that she didn't buy even for a second. After a long period of silence, she looked up.

Soul had not moved since handing over the stack of confessions. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his head was down, awaiting her judgment.

"Why?" Maka muttered, "Soul-this, why? Why would you take these?"

He kicked at the carpet, a shuffling, frustrated little motion. "Same reason as the others, basically," he explained sourly. "Guess I really am kind of a needy, insecure piece of shit, huh?"

Self-deprecation wasn't Soul's usual _modus operandi_; in her experience, Soul usually preferred to cover up any negativity he was feeling towards himself with bravado, at least outwardly. He'd never been the type to patch up fights between them by external displays of self-flagellation. The fact that he was so vocal about this wasn't like him, which made her wonder…

"Is that really all there is to it, Soul?" she asked.

"I don't know, Maka," he spat, running a hand through his hair. "I just-" He took a sharp breath through his nose. "I just, did, okay? It was a crappy thing to do, because you're-to me Maka, you're…" God, he couldn't tell her. No way. "You're my partner, and I didn't want you leaving me."

Oh _death_, it was so hard to be mad at him when he was so damn sincere, and even harder because she knew the feeling. She'd spent enough time fretting over her inadequacy to be Soul's meister- in fact had almost ended their partnership over it- that she couldn't blame him for succumbing to the same fears.

Maka crossed the room to sit beside him on the couch, reaching out shyly to lace her fingers through his. His soft intake of breath when she did so did not escape her, and she was much too pleased by it.

"It… wasn't okay, what you did," she said softly. "It makes me feel like you didn't trust me to stay loyal to you, and that hurts. But I need you to know that I'm not ever going to leave you. If you ever decide to end this partnership, if that's what you need, I won't stop you, but that's the only way we're splitting up, okay? I'm not going anywhere, and I would never let _anybody_ come between us. Besides-" she added, with a laugh that was more casual than she actually felt at saying at something so daring, "-why would I even want a boyfriend when I have you?"

Soul blushed deeply, surprised at how cool she was being about this. "I'm not-I'd never leave you, Maka. So I guess we're staying partners for a while, huh?"

Maka settled into the sofa cushions, leaning her cheek on Soul's shoulder and relaxing against him. "Yep, you're stuck with me," she said.

Trying very hard not to read too much into what she'd said, Soul wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulder. "Good," he replied, hoping he didn't sound as ridiculously elated as he felt.

Maka turned her head and hid her broad grin against his shirt. "I'm still mad at you, you know," she said, although she was having an awfully hard time sounding like it at the moment.

"I know. And I was serious about regretting it Maka, I'll never do something that lame ever again, I promise," he replies, giddy at the amount of physical contact he was sharing with her right now.

"You better not," she said, and she even managed to make it sound almost threatening.

She wasn't done being annoyed with him just yet, but then again that was nothing new. They'd had more than enough spats in their partnership that something like this was nothing that couldn't be overcome. If they could have the kinds of arguments they used to have early in their acquaintance but still care for and respect each other, then a breach of privacy could be dealt with in time. She'd make Soul pay in full for his misdeeds and then all would be right in the world.

She'd get on that soon, she decided as she snuggled just that little bit closer to him. Yeah… just as soon as he stopped being so warm and comfortable.

Soul stiffened slightly as Maka snuggled up next to him, but eventually relaxed and pulled her closer to him. Goddammit, why did she look so cute? He wasn't sure what had brought on the sudden affection, but he decided not to question his good fortune. God only knew he was going to want the happy memories once the cuddling stopped and the penance set in- which, if he knew his meister at all, would include at the very least more than his fair share of Maka-chops for the next few weeks.

He rested his head against hers, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair, and smiled. He might be a complete dumbass, but he was a complete dumbass with a meister who, for some inexplicable reason, was as dedicated to him as he was to her. And that, in Soul's opinion, was pretty damn wonderful.


	5. Wounds

**A/N-** I mean... it's technically still Friday in California, right? Sorry this is late, I went out last night to a bunch of clubs and partied with my friends and rode a mechanical bull and got my ass groped by strangers instead of writing after work yesterday, and then I procrastinated all day (I blame the hangover).

Regardless, bear with me for cheesy confession fic. Very, very cheesy confession fic.

* * *

**Day 5: Wounds**  
_Summary: Marie has an open wound on her heart, and she wants to make  
sure that Soul and Maka do not suffer the same fate. Awkwardness ensues.  
_

* * *

Soul glanced nervously at his meister as she knocked firmly on Miss Marie's office door. She was tense, as if she were expecting a scolding, which seemed unlikely given which teacher had requested the meeting with them. Still, Soul couldn't help but be wary. There was always a chance that Death Scythe had framed him for some crap to try and make him look bad. Admittedly, that hadn't happened in awhile, hardly at all since Italy and never since he'd become a death scythe himself, but it had been a common enough occurrence during the preceding years that Soul still felt pretty paranoid about it. And justifiably so, too! Spirit Albarn, in Soul's not entirely professional opinion, was more batshit crazy than he was.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, fixing an impassive Not Guilty sort of look on his face.

The door swung open and the pretty blonde teacher beamed at them from inside. "Soul, Maka, hello! Thanks for coming. I know no student wants to stay in school any longer than possible, so I appreciate you taking the time to stop by!"

"It's no problem at all, Miss Marie," Maka replied brightly. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

Rather than replying, Marie stepped aside and gestured to them to enter her office, taking her place behind her desk. "Take a seat you two." She indicated a pair of cushioned chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

Soul took the one closest to the door and oh, damn, these chairs were really comfortable! They were at least four times as comfortable as that piece of crap masquerading as their couch… he'd been meaning to replace that for awhile but he hadn't found any furniture worth the hassle yet. He was going to have to ask his fellow death scythe where she'd gotten these, they were fantastic-

A sharp kick to his shin brought him back to the present. "Ow, Maka!"

"Pay attention, would you?" Maka hissed. "I swear, you have a shorter attention span than Black*Star sometimes."

Soul gave her a wounded expression. "Now that just plain hurts," he said dramatically. "You're gonna make me cry."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, but he noticed the slight twitch of the corner of her lips as she tried to hold back a grin, and felt mightily pleased with himself.

"Sorry, Miss Marie," she said. "My partner will behave himself now."

"Oh, it's fine," Marie said lightly, her smile far too knowing and- dare he say it?- smug for Soul's comfort. "As I was saying, I've called you here because I have… oh, how do I put it? I guess I would say I have some concerns about your partnership."

Soul felt a nervous churning in his gut because the words "concern" and "partnership" couldn't be good together, especially coming from Marie, who was sunny and optimistic and always thought the best of everybody. One of his biggest worries lately had been the idea that someone with authority would come along and say that now that Maka had completed her task of making him a death scythe, they should go their separate ways and focus on other projects. It was one thing for a bunch of half-assed wannabe meisters to leave him partnership requests, because he didn't give a shit; it was quite another if somebody like Stein or Azusa or even Lord Death himself gave a command. Marie didn't really give orders, but if even she had concerns…

Maka, apparently, was thinking along the same lines. "What kind of concerns?" she blurted out. "Our partnership is fine. We're one of the most effective undergraduate teams to date, our resonance is always spot-on, and we have a record-breaking collection rate."

Marie shook her head, chuckling lightly. "Oh I know. It's nothing like that, Maka, don't worry." She propped her chin on her fist, studying them closely as her smile settled into a more serious expression. "I just… want to make sure you don't repeat the past."

"What do you mean?" Soul asked sharply, because Marie had gone to school with Stein and Maka's parents and the rest of that group, and if this was going to turn into another _don't turn into Spirit Albarn and hurt Maka or you're going to be in a world of pain_ lecture, he was done here. He was the definition of fidelity, dammit, and he'd rather saw off his right hand with his own blade than hurt his meister.

Marie sighed, looking like she was steeling herself to continue. "As I'm sure you're aware, Joe Buttataki was murdered several months ago."

"Back in April, yeah," Maka said with a nod. "He was killed because his powerful soul perception made him a target, right?"

"That's right. Joe had the strongest soul perception that has ever been recorded, and only a very small number of meisters have ever been reported to have anywhere near his degree of sensitivity," Marie said. "In fact, Maka, you're the only meister in your generation known to be anywhere close to Joe's level."

Maka flushed, pleased at the indirect praise, and Soul spent a moment paying far more attention to how pretty the pink in her cheeks made her than to what Marie was saying. When he finally tuned back in, the older death weapon was continuing: "What you might not have known was that Joe Buttataki was the meister who made me a death scythe."

"What?" Maka gasped. "Oh, Marie, I'm so sorry. To lose your partner like that-!" Her eyes darted to the side, meeting Soul's own for a moment, and he saw the same kind of sympathetic horror in her gaze that he was feeling. She didn't have to finish her statement for him (or, he suspected, Marie) to know exactly what she meant.

There could be nothing more agonizing than losing your partner.

Marie shook her head with a telling sniff. "It's alright. I'm… well, we hadn't _really_ been partners in years. You see, Joe and I were romantic partners as well as combat partners," she explained, a look of wistful reminiscence coming into her single eye. "It's… well, it's a long, complicated story and I won't bore you with the details, but suffice to say we'd been harboring feelings for each other for a long time, and it all finally came to the surface a few months before he made me a death scythe. I've never been that happy in my entire life."

Her voice was soft and her expression sad as she continued, "We'd been together about four years, and partners for nine, when things started to fall apart. I could feel him starting to pull away from me, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to confront him about it, so I kept silent and hoped it would get better on its own. I just wanted to believe maybe it was something he needed to work through on his own. But then he left. He didn't even say goodbye, I just woke up one morning to a note on the kitchen counter saying he was sorry but he had to go, and he didn't know when he'd be back. I didn't see him until he returned to Death City this spring at Lord Death's request."

"That's awful," Maka murmured, and Soul was inclined to agree. He might not know Marie that well, and he'd spent all of five minutes with Joe Buttataki when the man was conducting his investigation, but he didn't understand what kind of person could bail on their partner like that. He supposed that Maka, with her absent mother, must feel even more strongly on the matter.

"Our relationship was very important to me. We had such a close bond, and when he left, it left an emotional wound that I didn't think would ever heal. Ever since then, I suppose I've been a little- well, the word Yumi uses is "clingy"- in my romantic relationships." Marie laughed, clearly a bit self-conscious. "I never knew why he left, and I thought it was something that I had done. I was angry and sad and hurt for a long time. And then, when Joe was finally back and we had a chance to put things right… well…"

She looked away, blinking rapidly for a few moments, and Soul was under no delusions that her eye was dry.

"Anyway," she said, too briskly for it to really succeed in sounding natural, "before he died, Joe and I had a talk, and he finally told me why he left all those years ago."

"What was the reason?" Maka asked. Her expression was weirdly strained, Soul noted, and her fingers were twisting nervously in the fabric of her skirt.

Marie's shoulders slumped as she let out a long breath, which gave her the air of a balloon deflating. "His soul perception was getting stronger," she explained. "He felt like he knew too much of me and he didn't want to… the way he phrased it was 'he was afraid of seeing right through me.' I don't really understand, but maybe if things had turned out differently, I would have."

Well. This was a major downer of a storytime.

Soul glanced at his meister and noted that she hadn't stopped tugging at her hem, though he wasn't sure what was making her so fidgety. Sure, this wasn't exactly uplifting Hallmark hippie-dippy feel good stuff, but it was still odd for her to be so tense.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Soul asked, since Marie didn't seem to have any plans to continue anytime soon.

"Soul!" Maka hissed. "Can't you at least try to be sensitive?"

She had a point. Whoops. "Sorry. Just… a little confused about what this has to do with us," he pointed out.

Marie straightened up, the creases in her forehead smoothing out as her frown eased into a more neutral expression. "I'd have thought that was obvious," she said, and it was almost cheerful. "I told you I didn't want history to repeat itself, didn't I? With the two of you so much in love, I wanted to share our story so you can avoid the mistakes we made."

Shit. Shit shit shit _shit shit **shit** why was he so **fucking obvious**?!_ He'd thought up until now that he'd done a good job hiding the fact that he was head over heels for his meister. She certainly didn't seem to be any the wiser, and their friends hadn't given him any crap about it… well, except Jacqueline, but Jackie had always given him shit, and she was way too perceptive for her own good anyway. Apparently he hadn't been as subtle as he thought. Shit, what had given him away? Had it been the protectiveness? Nah, that was normal, more or less, most weapons were protective of their meisters. Maybe not as much as he was, but still. No, wait, it was probably the longing stares. Yeah, that was definitely it. Dammit, that wasn't his fault, though! She was just so nice to look at and could he help it if he got stupid stomach moths- not butterflies, butterflies were severely uncool- and ended up staring at her like a besotted fool if he didn't distract himself quickly enough? No, no he could not!

And now, of course, the cat was out of the fucking bag. Great. And if the horrified little squeak Maka made after the words "in love" dropped from Marie's lips was anything to go by, she was not only completely surprised but also not pleased by this information.

"W-what makes you think- I mean, we're not- how did you-?"

Marie interrupted his meister's sputtering with a laugh. "No need to pretend, Maka, not with me. You may be hiding your relationship from your father, but I can tell. I'm something of a romantic, you know, and I know true love when I see it."

She leaned forward on her forearms, folding her hands on the desk in an uncharacteristically serious, professor-ish pose. "Now, what I really wanted to say to the two of you is not to waste the time that's given to you. Joe and I might have had much longer together if we hadn't spent so much time dancing around our feelings and trying to fool ourselves that we weren't in love, and I'm glad to know the two of you have figured that out faster than we did. But we'd have had even more time if we had been better at communicating. We were young and foolish then, and I didn't know how to speak up when I felt him pulling away from me. So please, don't make my mistakes. Learn to talk to each other, if you haven't already. Be honest with each other and if you feel you're having problems, address them right away and fix them together, before they can turn into something that tears you apart."

Soul sat glued to his seat, feeling thoroughly humiliated that his inability to keep a lid on his feelings had led to this highly embarrassing misunderstanding, yet also registering a distant, rather shell-shocked thought that they were receiving very good advice. It would probably apply pretty well to their totally platonic (dammit!) partnership, just as much as it would to a romantic relationship. Communicate more. Got it. He sucked at that, but he should work on it, right?

A sidelong glance told him that Maka looked equally stunned, her fingers now gripping the seat of the chair on either side of her legs rather than her skirt. God, he hoped she hadn't put the pieces together. Maybe, if he was insanely lucky, she'd just chalk this one up to Marie's romantic nature and his secret would stay safe!

"Miss Marie," the meister began nervously, "I think-"

"Please, don't argue. I'm sure you think you're not like us," Marie cut her off, "that it couldn't happen to you. That's what I thought too, and all it got me was a broken heart. What the two of you have is a precious gift, so please don't be careless with it."

Maka's shoulders slumped. "R-right," she muttered. "Was there anything else, Miss Marie?"

The older death scythe shook her head, apparently oblivious to the humiliation she had just unwittingly inflicted on her students. "That'll be all. Just promise you'll remember what I said."

"Uh, yeah," Maka replied. "T-thanks. Come on, Soul, let's go home."

Soul put up no argument when Maka made for the door. Comfy chairs or no, it wasn't worth sticking around any longer and risking further exposure of things he thought he'd successfully hidden.

Once out in the hall, Maka shut the door firmly behind them. They stood there in shock for a few moments, before Maka raised her eyes at the exact second he happened to glance down at her. Their gazes met for a second, and they both flushed bright red before looking away quickly.

"I can't believe she thought we were together," Maka said, splintering the charged silence. "I mean… us? Crazy, right?" She gave a forced-sounding laugh.

Soul's tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth for approximately the last five minutes, but he pulled out the metaphorical putty knife and pried up enough eloquence to grit out, "Yeah… crazy…"

_And now folks, if you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of our hero's heart shattering into a billion pieces!_

This fucking sucked on every possible level. He'd heard the phrase "it's the not knowing that kills you," but at this particular moment, he would far rather go back to not knowing. Right around the same time he'd figured out that he was pretty much gone over this girl, he'd also figured out that the odds of her ever returning the feeling were painfully low… but at least when he hadn't known one way or the other, he could imagine a miracle scenario where she was happy to hear that he loved her and welcomed him with open arms and kisses and… well, it was a nice fantasy while it lasted.

Now he just had to hope that that had just been an innocent comment brought on by the love lecture they'd just been given, rather than an attempt to let him know subtly that she wasn't interested without having to outright reject him. Since she didn't feel the same way, he'd really rather she just didn't know at all.

"Well, we should…" Maka gestured somewhat helplessly towards the end of the hallway.

"Yeah. Right."

They didn't walk any slower than normal, and when they got to his parking spot and hopped on the bike he didn't ignore the speed limit any less than he usually did- in fact, he was pretty sure he drove _faster_- but to Soul, it felt like an excruciatingly lengthy trip home. Usually they chatted casually on their commute, but today there was nothing but tense silence between them. Maka's body was stiff behind him and she seemed determined to touch him as little with as she could, which made holding on difficult. It made him want to kick something.

Dammit, if Marie weren't so nice, he'd- he'd… well, he wasn't sure what he'd do because she really was too sweet to yell at, but he was inwardly calling her every filthy name he could think of for making things so unbelievably awkward. Logically he knew that the demon hammer had meant well, and had no idea what kind of mess she'd made, but at the moment he didn't care what her intentions had been.

When they finally got home, it occurred to him that it was his turn to cook dinner. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic. Just _exactly_ what he needed right now, to spend the next hour over a hot stove, trying to pay attention enough to burn shit. All he wanted to do was go lock himself in his room, put on some music- preferably something loud and pissed off- and maybe cry a little. It might sound uncool and was definitely emo as hell, but he felt he'd earned a bad mood after having every last one of his tentative hopes and dreams brutally crushed with a single offhand comment.

"Hey, Soul?" Maka asked.

"What?"

"How about I make supper tonight?" she offered. "I've really been craving that veggie lasagna I make."

Well, that was a good enough excuse to go hide in his room for a couple of hours. Hopefully by the time the lasagna was cooked he'd be able to talk without having to swallow the lump in his throat first.

"Sure," he grunted, and then he bolted for the safety of his room.

* * *

Vegetable lasagna safely in the oven, Maka perched on the edge of the kitchen table with a despondent sigh. The rhythmic, mindless slicing of vegetables and layering of pasta had been an effective distraction from what had transpired in Miss Marie's office earlier, just as she had been hoping; now that all she had to do was sit around and wait for the next forty minutes while the lasagna baked, however, she didn't have anything to keep her from obsessing.

All this time, she'd thought of Marie as being kind but very oblivious, but clearly the death weapon was much more observant than she'd thought. She didn't know what she'd done to give herself away, but obviously Marie had picked up on her feelings for her weapon and come to the conclusion that they were together.

What was she to do now? Things with Soul had been so _awkward_ the whole ride home. She'd hoped to deflect attention from her feelings and diffuse the situation with her joking little comment immediately afterwards, but it seemed that had only increased the tension between them. And Soul had looked so out of sorts before he shut himself up in his room…

She had to fix this. Somehow.

She knocked softly on his bedroom door, not waiting for a reply before she let herself in.

Soul was lying facedown on his bed, buried in a pillow. He'd had a CD playing earlier- she'd heard it from the kitchen, some loud rock thing- but it appeared to have ended, because the room was silent.

"Soul?"

A muffled grunt was her only reply.

"I think we should talk."

"Let's not and say we did."

Summoning her courage up, she crossed the room and poked him in the shoulder. "Come on, Soul. Even if we're not… you know… what she thought we were, Marie was still right. We should learn to communicate better."

With a resigned-sounding groan, Soul rolled over and sat up in one fluid motion, and she had to look away for a moment when his shirt rode up and revealed a lot more abdominal-type area than she was prepared to handle without blushing. She sat down gingerly beside him on the edge of the mattress.

"Okay then," he said, "go on, say whatever it is you wanna say."

Ooh, that was a great question. What exactly did she want to say, anyway? "I… um… well…"

"Spit it out." He crossed his arms, looking impatient.

She gave him a short glare, then settled down to say, "I guess I'm just trying to, um, clear the air?"

"Of what?" Soul asked harshly. "The air seems pretty damn clear to me, Maka. We're not a couple. Obviously."

Before she could snap back, Maka forced herself to stop and take a breath, because something wasn't quite right here. Soul was being surlier than usual… much more than was justified for a harmless misunderstanding. He was acting like he'd had his feelings hurt. But what could have happened to make him feel like that?

_Unless…_

Despite her best efforts at resistance, a little bud of hope began to bloom in her chest.

"Look," she said with as much calm as she could muster, "I just want to apologize because I'm pretty sure it's my fault that Marie thought… what she thought."

He shot her a puzzled look. "Your fault? Why would it be your fault?"

Her hands were shaking, so she shoved them under her thighs, very glad that she was sitting because this way she didn't have to focus on not falling down if her jelly knees gave out on her. She was preparing to take a huge risk, but Maka Albarn didn't shy away just because the odds were stacked against her, right?

"I think she picked up on the feelings I have for you and assumed we were a couple."

For the rest of her life, Maka would be grateful that she had had the nerve to maintain eye contact with Soul in that moment, because watching his surly, guarded look melt into an incredulous, hopeful one was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

"Feelings… for me?" he asked, sounding almost shy.

"Yeah." She was still trembling, but the way he was staring at her made her sure she'd made the right choice.

"But what about… I mean, what was that comment about us together being crazy, then?" he asked, confusion all over his face.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What was I supposed to say, 'Gee, partner, now that Marie brought it up, you wanna go to a movie on Saturday?'"

"Well obviously not, because last time I checked, we weren't cowboys."

"Cute," she shot back sarcastically.

Soul gave her a smirky grin, but then he went pink and glanced down. "So… um… about that movie…"

Suddenly Maka's nervously-pounding heart was fluttering for an entirely different reason, because now she was absolutely sure that her gamble had paid off. And possibly also because the blush on his face was unquestionably the most adorable thing ever.

"Yeah?" she prompted eagerly.

"I think there's an 8:30 showing of that action flick you've been wanting to see. My treat?"

Maka giggled. "We have a joint checking account, doofus," she said, which only made him turn a brighter shade of red and, well, at that point she had absolutely no choice but to lean over and kiss his flushing cheek.

"But yes," she continued, as Soul proceeded to become a tomato, "I'd love to go on a date with you." She was grinning like a fool, but so was he, and she made a mental note to make Marie a card or a cake or something.

Soul laid his hand over hers where it rested on the mattress, and she glanced down at their overlapping fingers in pleased surprise before his voice made her look up. "In the interests of, uh, taking Marie's advice," he said, looking nervous and shy again for reasons Maka couldn't begin to fathom, "full disclosure: I'm in love with you."

She let out a relieved chuckle. "Is that all? You looked so serious, I thought you were going to say something awful."

"At least I know me loving you isn't awful," he quipped sardonically, but he still looked tense and he was scratching nervously at his cheek with his free hand.

Maka grinned more broadly and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. It was sappy, but she didn't care. "Love you, too," she said softly. "You didn't really doubt that, did you?"

He let out a relieved sigh, and she felt it across her neck, making goosebumps rise. "Well, for awhile there…" he hedged. "I mean, that thing you said right after we left Marie's office…"

She wrinkled her nose sympathetically. "I'm sorry, that must've sounded awful… I was just trying to diffuse the tension."

Soul laughed. "Nerd. Who even uses words like "diffuse the tension" anyway?"

"Me," she said proudly. "But I have it on good authority that you like me, so I'm pretty sure you don't mind."

"That's some good intel. You should probably thank your informant," Soul said, voice suddenly low and rumbly and way too sexy for her to deal with and _oh god he was flirting with her, wasn't he?_

"I probably should," she agreed breathlessly.

And then she felt his fingers on her cheek, tilting her head up so that he could meet her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It wasn't perfect, definitely a little awkward, but Maka couldn't have cared less.

* * *

**A/N part deux-** Bandages is all finished. In fact, it was the first one I finished. Anyway, that'll be posted sometime around 1 p.m. CST when I go on my break at work and have a few minutes to upload it.


	6. Bandages

**A/N-** Oh look, more nauseatingly cute fluff! Short and completely lacking angst this time

* * *

**Day 6: Bandages**  
_Summary: In which Maka is incapacitated, and Soul has hidden talents.  
_

* * *

It took more than two weeks after their fight with the immortal werewolf for Maka's hands to be functional enough to so much as take notes, and longer before she was able to take the bandages off for good. She had first degree burns over her entire palm and most of her fingers, and it was only thanks to her trademark white leather gloves that she didn't have second degree burns or worse. As it was, she did have a few small spots where she did have more severe burns, and the skin was blistered and excruciating. She discovered pretty quickly that being without the use of her hands impaired her significantly more than she would have thought.

Of course she and Soul had to be put on the inactive roster for the time being, because even with their soul wavelengths back in alignment, there was no way she could handle him with her hands stinging and blistered. That was just begging for a fatal accident. But that much, she had anticipated. Injuries to either party always took partners off active duty for as long as was necessary to heal. What she hadn't anticipated was just how _helpless_ she was without the use of her hands!

Soul, bless him, was eager to help with anything she needed, though not without a trademark sarcastic remark or two (or three, given that he was safe from Maka-chops for the time being). She suspected he felt guilty, since it was his haft she had burned herself on. In her opinion that was highly silly of him, since their divergent wavelengths had been as much her fault as his, but she understood how awful it could feel when your partner was hurt and it could've been prevented. Dear _Death_, she understood that. And so she put up with him fussing over her, and with him pretending very hard that he _wasn't_ fussing over her at all.

It was actually a little bit cute. Partners normally looked after each other when they were injured, but Maka had never suffered many injuries on the job besides the usual accumulation of cuts and bruises. Soul had certainly offered his help in patching up scrapes and things if they were in places she couldn't easily reach, but until now she'd never been in a position where she actually needed much help from him, and he seemed to be taking his role as caretaker quite seriously- though he would most certainly have denied it if asked. Her bandages needed to be changed and burn cream applied twice a day, which Soul did with nearly military regularity at precisely seven in the morning and precisely seven at night. He even took notes for her, and Maka was absolutely positive that it was the most he'd paid attention in class in his entire life. If she needed anything that required more dexterity than operating the television remote- which in and of itself proved surprisingly difficult with her hands covered in thick layers of white gauze- he was right there offering his assistance. It was fortunate that she was still able to bathe and dress herself- though not without some difficulty- or she was sure he would have tried to help with _that_, too, the pervert!

Watching him perform the balancing act of trying to be as attentive and helpful as possible while simultaneously maintaining his lazy and aloof facade was almost as frustrating as it was amusing, but that was just how Soul was.

The tricky part was the cooking. Ever since they moved in together, only a few months after they became partners, they had had an arrangement regarding how they handled cooking duties. Soul was a useless lump in the morning, so Maka happily took over making breakfast, but they took turns making supper.

Now, however, the full responsibility for their meals fell to Soul, who… was not quite so talented in the kitchen. Maka preemptively resigned herself to a lot of toaster waffles and canned soup, and for the first couple of days, that was exactly what she got.

On the evening of the third day, however, she was shooed unceremoniously out of the kitchen and left to vegetate on the couch, watching a bad Hallmark movie that she might or might not be getting way too emotionally invested in, since turning the pages of a book was still a bit of a challenge. She half-listened to the cacophony of banging and muffled swearing that came from the kitchen, and more than once got worried enough to lean over and poke her head around the corner to ask if he needed any help. Soul fervently denied her assistance- not that she would have been much use but it was the principle of the thing- and told her to "go back to whatever sappy crap you're watching."

Her curiosity was piqued, but not necessarily in a good way. Maka was pretty positive that they were going to end up eating ramen for dinner once Soul destroyed whatever it was he was making, no matter how good it smelled.

Her movie was almost finished, the lonely career-driven protagonist had realized that what _really_ mattered in life was landing a husband and confessed her love to Generic White Man #2, and the whole apartment smelled strangely fantastic before Soul finally emerged. His snowy hair was even more disorderly than normal, his apron was covered in flour and what looked like smears of egg, and he was carrying two empty plates with silverware balanced atop two full glasses of water.

"If I'd realized it was going to take you two hours to pour us some ice water, I would have just ordered us some Chinese," she quipped.

"Ha ha," Soul replied sarcastically, shooting her a sour look. He disappeared around the corner again, only to reemerge moments later carrying a pie plate with oven mitts.

He set the serving dish down on the coffee table, a smug smirk firmly settled on his mouth. "How's _that_ for a healthy dinner, huh?"

"What is th- Is that quiche?" Maka stared at the golden brown egg dish, then back up at Soul. "I didn't know you could make quiche."

Soul shrugged. "Can't cook for shit, but I can bake alright." He cut two slices of the quiche and set them on the plates, then handed one to her.

Maka clumsily cut off a bite sized portion with her fork, then lifted it to her mouth with some trepidation, because no matter how tasty it looked and smelled, she still half-expected it to taste the same way Soul's ill-fated attempt at stir-fry had: burned. However, she was surprised to find that the quiche was light and fluffy and wonderfully savory.

"Wow, Soul, this is actually really good!" she exclaimed.

"Like I said," he said, brushing off her praise with a shrug. Still, she saw the corners of his mouth twitching as he struggled not to smile.

After that, Soul gave up on attempting to cook anything, and enthusiastically turned his attention to baked goods. He churned out banana bread and cinnamon rolls for breakfast, French toast and pies and Greek spanakopita and little homemade pizza balls and all manner of other surprising things for dinner, all supplemented with fresh fruit and yoghurt and rice.

It was an unexpected but certainly not unpleasant surprise to discover the sorts of things her roommate could do with a whisk and a working oven. After her second helping of an apple crisp that was toe-curlingly delicious, she had to ask, "How on earth did you learn to bake like this, Soul?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, nonchalant or at least faking it well, and said, "My Gran used baking as stress relief. She taught me."

It was one of the very few things Soul had ever told her about his life before Shibusen, and the mental image it conjured up of a white-haired old lady being followed around by an equally white-haired little boy, teaching him how to cut shortening into flour to make a pie crust and helping him roll out dough evenly with a rolling pin larger than his own arm, was beyond adorable.

"Awwwww," she cooed, "that's so cute!"

Soul pinked and shoved his hands further into his pockets, staring pointedly at his lap so that his hair hid his eyes from her. "Shut up!" he mumbled. "It is _not_ cute! Baking is manly as hell!"

Maka just smiled.


	7. First I love you

**A/N-** Very short, probably not very interesting, but a sweet and sentimental farewell to (the official) SoMa Week (because every week is SoMa week on my FF page).

* * *

**Day 7: First "I love you"**  
_Summary: Soul always loved her. He just didn't always know  
_

* * *

There were many ways Maka told Soul she loved him without saying it in so many words. It showed every day in the things she did for him. It showed in how she made breakfast for him each morning, because he was useless before noon or several cups of tea. It showed in the way she fussed over him when he was sick or injured. It showed when he woke up screaming from a nightmare and she was at his side in an instant to hold tight to his hand and offer any comfort he would let her give. It showed when she would make his favorite meals the whole week of his birthday, and in the times she would set aside her novels for him because he was bored and wanted someone to talk to, and in how she could always tell when he'd had a bad day, even on the rare occasions she hadn't been there for most of it, and let him pick the movie that night.

At first, he didn't recognize the sentiment her actions conveyed, which perhaps wasn't so surprising. Soul was loved as a child, but even as a young boy he could tell it was always conditional, dependent on his behavior, his intelligence, his talent, how _impressive_ he was. To be a child of the Evans family was to be a tool for garnering social status, meant to be put on display like a work of art, and while his elder brother was clearly a masterpiece, Soul … well, he knew where he fell in the pecking order.

When he first discovered his weapon blood and learned what it meant, he never anticipated feeling or receiving much affection from his meister. He supposed he and his partner would probably be friends, although for a time after he met Maka Albarn he even doubted that, because their early days were… _tumultuous_. But at the most, he had never expected anything besides casual friendship. It was a professional partnership, after all. He didn't figure he'd have any deeper relationship with his meister than his grandmother had with the CFO of her corporation.

But Maka didn't play by any set of rules Soul had ever heard of. Daddy issues aside, she seemed determined to get emotionally close to him.

It would be an outright lie- not to mention an insult to the journey they went on and all the hardships they faced together that brought them close- to say that he loved her from the start. Time and trials and hours spent blurring the borderlines between their souls taught him to love her, and the same could be said for her. As months and years passed, she slammed right in through every single wall he'd ever put up like they weren't even there, and by the time he realized it was happening, he was already hers and he didn't even care.

Even so, it took him a long while to realize that the affection was mutual. Call him obtuse, but it took her actually saying the words for him to understand that she loved him.

The first time she said it, it wasn't some kind of romantic confession. It was just a simple statement of fact after he had gone and gotten himself banged up protecting her. They were fifteen, and she sat beside him in the hospital, nervous fingers brushing against the cast on his wrist and eyes skittering over the gashes that littered his upper arms.

"You've got to stop doing this," she told him, voice soft and urgent and pleading. Before he could protest, could assure her that protecting her was a duty and an honor (okay, maybe he wouldn't have put it quite like that, but it was what he _meant_), she stunned him into silence as she said, "I don't want this, Soul. You're my best friend and I love you and I can't stand it when you get hurt."

Looking back many years later, Soul recognized that that insistent, platonic admission of love must have been the moment he started to lose his heart to her.

The thing was, he loved her then. He had for a long time, in the same way she loved him- as a best friend, a partner, a confidante. But when he heard her actually say as much out loud, it changed something, flipped a switch in his mind. Perhaps it was the certain knowledge that he was loved, unconditionally, for the first time in his life by someone towards whom he held no resentment. Perhaps it was just coincidence, an accident of timing and hormones. Either way, it was at just that time that he inevitably began to give her more and more of himself, whether she knew it or not.

There was no sudden realization that made him look at her any differently. He was protective of her, but he always had been. He was attracted to her, but he had always thought she was pretty. He found he preferred her company to that of his male friends… but then, that had been true for a long time. Sometimes there was flirting, but when he looked back, they'd always done that. There was no bolt from the blue. Sometimes his gaze lingered on her a little longer, but it was no tangible difference. It was simply a slow, easy shift in the flavor of his love for her.

It was a funny thing to look at her one day and just know that things were different. He wasn't even really surprised. He had always loved her as a friend, and he still loved her as a friend- his very best friend, in fact. But he also loved her in other ways. He wanted to be her partner in every sense, wanted to marry her and stand by her side for the rest of their lives, wanted to wake up next to her each morning and make love to her every night. Nothing had really changed, and yet everything had changed.

And so, many months after it occurred to him that the character of his affection for her had changed, with his fingers twitching nervously at his side and his eyes glued to hers as he awaited her reaction, it became his turn to say aloud what they'd both known all along.

"Maka, I love you."

Her answering smile and the kiss she gave him made Soul question if he hadn't loved her this way all along.


End file.
